Mentors For Life
by riverknowshisname
Summary: Katniss and Peeta survived the Seventy-Forth Hunger Games, but as the time for the Quarter Quell draws near the rules change - there will be four people entering the arena this time - 2 tributes, and 2 mentors. How will they survive this one? Will they both live? Will they both die? Only one way to find out...
1. Chapter 1

_**Thank you, first of all, for taking the time to read this story. I'm still writing the others, but this idea came to me and I couldn't just let it go. So here it is...I certainly hope you enjoy it.**_

_**I do not own the Hunger Games or any characters therein, I simply love the stories and enjoy telling them in different ways.**_

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><p>"Katniss!" Peeta shouted as he ran up behind me. Walking around town was exceptionally weird now. Everyone looked at us like we had something to hide. It was almost like we had done something wrong by winning the Games and by making it home alive. It's almost as if they'd wanted us to die in that arena…an unfortunate but likely truth. Peeta and I have had many discussions about our treatment since we got back. It took him awhile to come around after what I'd said after the Games…he failed to hear the part where I said "not all of it," but no matter, it was better that I come to terms with my own feelings first anyways. One day I was sitting in the woods and it just hit me…what it might have been like if Peeta <em>had<em> died in that arena. The thought was unbearable. I was supposed to meet Gale there to do some hunting, but I needed to see Peeta more, needed to explain how I really felt. How it was more real than even I thought in the beginning. That I could not have been more wrong, and he could not have been more right, for me, that is.

"Hello, Peeta," I say with a smile. "You were baking all morning weren't you?"

"How'd you tell?" he smiled as he pulled a cheese bun out of his pocket and handed it to me.

I laugh, "well, I didn't know you had one with you." I take the bun from him and savoring the first bite. "I just meant, that I could smell it from my house." I swallow. "Three doors down!"

"Are you complaining?" he smiles, "cause I can take that one back."

"No way," I pull the cheese bun close to my chest and take another bite. "Not a chance! It's mine now." I'm so busy enjoying my cheese bun that I don't realize he's there till I run right into him. "Peeta!"

"It's not me, Katniss," he says from beside me.

I look over at him, "oh." Turning to face the real person that I ran into, "Gale. Hi."

"Where were you?" he asks, clearly annoyed.

"Right here," I say, "I'm right here."

"It's Sunday." That's all he says. Stoically with his body rigid. "We always go hunting on Sundays." His glare at me is so intense I'm sure I will faint soon from the sheer weight of it. Ever since I left him in the woods those several weeks ago to go tell Peeta that I loved him too, that my life wouldn't ever have been the same if he had died in that arena, this is what my relationship with Gale had been like. We still went hunting, but it was a silent affair…I thought it was only a matter of time that he'd stop going, but without fail he was always there. Not entirely sure how I feel about that. But I do feel better about being honest with Peeta.

"Yes," I finally say. "It is Sunday."

"Then why are you here?" he asks pointedly, not moving an inch one-way or the other. "Why are you here, and not in the meadow where you said you would be?" Every Sunday. He had that right for sure, but I thought it was come as you may, or will, not always come every Sunday.

"I didn't know it was mandatory," I say plainly. His irritation with me, igniting mine with him. He's really going to stand here and _tell_ me I'm going to the meadow with him regardless…well, that's not what's going to happen here, whether he likes that or not.

"It's not," he glares over at Peeta and then back to me.

"Hey," I glare back. "It's not Peeta's fault. He bakes on Sundays, that's what we do. He bakes, I hunt." It's true; that had become the case. His family didn't live with him in Victors Village, though his mother has been insisting that family lives together, which was really her way of saying she wanted to live in a bigger house, but I convinced Peeta that wasn't a good idea. It really didn't take much convincing though, honestly. He agreed with me, I'm sure, before I gave him my two sense.

"Is it all you and Peeta now?" His arms are now folded over his chest and I believe if he could breathe fire, Peeta and I would be reduced to ashes already. "Is there no room for anyone else in your life anymore?"

"What?" asks Peeta who'd been silent until now. "We don't spend every hour together. Especially not now. The Victory Tour starts next week, we'll have plenty of time together then, without any help from District 12. We won the Games, so whether we like it or not, whether we're together or not, we will always have that connection. We have to train other tributes Gale, that's not something to be proud of."

"Whatever," Gale turns around abruptly and walks away.

"Well, that was…" I don't even know how to finish it.

"Understandable."

"What?" I turn to look at Peeta. "How is that 'understandable'?"

"Well, I was always jealous of him," he shrugs, "do you really think you would have noticed me without the Games?"

"I did though," I say confidently, "that's the thing. You gave me that bread, when I was dying, and I'd never forgotten that. That is something I will carry with me for the rest of my life. You've saved my life more than once you know."

"It wasn't because of me that we got out of that arena though," he nods. "You," he says pointing to me as we resume walking, "did that. You had those berries, and were willing to die to make sure that we wouldn't have to come back here without each other. It was that moment that I was sure you loved me…I didn't realize then that it was all an act."

I sigh, "allow me to reiterate what I said on the train to that comment," I look him in the eyes and nearly trip doing so, "not _all_ of it." He seems confused. "Really, truly. Not everything was an act. There was one moment…one moment when we were kissing, that I forgot I was supposed to be acting…one morning I woke up deliriously happy and knew it had something to do with you, but I made myself repress it. I wasn't going to admit to those feelings. I couldn't. I wouldn't. Admitting to them would have made it so much harder if anything had happened to you…if you had died in that arena…I'd never have made it out. Not really. I'd have spent the rest of my life in that arena, trying to think my way out."

"I'm not sure I follow…" he stops, grabbing my arm and I stop too.

"It wasn't all a lie," I say slowly. "I realized I had feelings, that they were real, and it scared me, so I repressed them. I tried to think them away, act like there weren't there, but one of those kisses in the cave … it made me forget myself – lose myself – in that kiss. They're quite intoxicating…those kisses of yours."

"Oh, really?" says Peeta with a grin and he takes two steps closer to me, pulling me into his arms. "Is it a little something like, this?" he gives me a peck on the cheek. I shake my head. "Maybe this?" he kisses my forehead. I shake my head again. "Well, I know it's not this," he picks my hand up and kisses it. I take his hand in mine and pull him forward. If his foreplay is going to take this long, I'm certainly not waiting.

There it is, that sensation that overtook me in the cave, that made me question what my true feelings were…what they were if I did indeed have them, except, now I know I have them and they are a welcome use of my time. More than welcome, savored use of my time. There's nothing like his kisses…not that I've kissed many other people…well Gale kissed me, but it's nothing like Peeta's. Nothing like Peeta's, at all.

It doesn't take long before our moment is interrupted, as moments for us, almost always are. And it's not by Gale, or Delly, or Prim, or anyone else that I actually like…it's by Mrs. Mellark. Oh how I hate that woman. For how much I love Peeta, I hate her more. For years she abused him. Treated him like little more than the dirt she dained to walk on, beat him black and blue, made him do all the baking for her, and many other horrible things not worth mentioning. If I had the ability to kill anyone, with my thoughts alone, she'd be dead ten times over. He came _back_ from the Games _alive_, and all she said to him was, "_I knew she would win. She's a fighter that one._" The audacity! The disrespect! Oh, I have a list of what it was, and it is not at all flattering.

"Peeta! Quit wasting time and come to work!" she screams before retreating down the street.

"I've been summoned," he says letting go of me.

"I really wish you would quit." He laughs at my comment, "I mean, you have enough money you could _buy_ the bakery. For many times more than it's actually worth and she would _still_ tell you what to do! It's maddening! You don't deserve this Peeta! Any of this!" My hands have balled into fist and all Peeta's doing is smiles…obnoxiously.

"It's cute that you worry," he boops me on the nose. "I think I can handle myself."

"Just be careful," he looks at me questioningly, "she's libel to fall into a fire one of these days."

"Your rage?" he laughs at my comment. "I can see the headline now, 'Girl on Fire throws mother-in-law into fire.'"

"Ha ha." I shake my head at him and then realize what he's just said, "wait a minute! Mother-in-law? That's news. Did we get married and I just wasn't paying attention? There must be some mistake, if we got married, I'd like to have actually been there, I mean we're living in separate houses!"

"You're ridiculous," he laughs once more, gives me a light kiss and walks away, "we'll talk about the whole wedding thing later."

"Okay," I tell him, as I watch him walk away. Married? I hadn't really thought that far ahead…but I suppose we'd need to, in order to please Snow. He let us both live – against his will, but live nonetheless – and he's going to glean every last drop of that 'star-crossed lovers' thing for all it's worth – more even. He'll milk it until we've had kids and they've ended up in an arena themselves!

The thought of having my own children go into an arena is crippling and I collapse onto the hard ground. Since Peeta and I became a thing, I'd never let myself think about kids, not in respect to him, or any other guy I know. I hadn't really thought about having a real, actual, future with him…it didn't seem possible. Really, Snow can do whatever he wants with us now, and we'd have to obey those wishes. We may not – and probably wouldn't – want to fulfill them, but like I already said, he's going to glean the star-crossed lovers of District 12 for every little thing that they are worth…and it will be hell on earth. No part of it will make sense to us, and no part of it will be morally or socially acceptable…but he'll do it anyways. Because he's the President. Because he _can._

"Katniss?" comes a very sweet, soft spoken voice that I know well. "Are you okay?" I look up to see Madge Undersee, my one friend – girl friend – here that didn't treat me horribly upon my return. She jokingly said I owed her my life, because the Mockingjay pin kept me alive. I laughed and told her that was probably the ticket out of there all along. When I don't answer she kneels down in front of me, "Katniss, are you okay?"

I nod halfheartedly, "yeah."

"I know you better than that," she says matter-of-factly. "I know you're not okay." She places a gentle hand on my shoulder and gives it a slight squeeze, "I'm here for you, if ever you need me. To talk about anything. I assume you'd only want to talk to Peeta or Haymitch about the Games – because no on else can understand what that's like – and I understand that, but for anything else, anything at all…just know you can come talk to me whenever you need to, okay?" I nod and she stands up. "Be better Katniss. At least the Victory Tour is starting soon, be a nice vacation from people unjustly hating you."

"Right," I say meeting her gaze, "I get to go to districts and look into the eyes of people who lost their sons, daughters, brother, sister, cousin, significant other, and tell them thank you for offering their tribute. It's not like they had a choice. So yeah, I get to exchange a handful of people who hate me, because I survived the Games when so many people from our district before haven't, or simply because they think Peeta and I cheated—"

"You kind of did," she says plainly, "and you know that, but continue."

"Right, so I get to exchange those horrid people," I sigh heavily, "for people who have just cause to hate me. I did cheat, and they know that, and their children and so on, won't be coming back because I did. I'd take the former kind of hate over the latter any day." I meet her gaze again, "I don't think it's fair either, but I can't tell them that. I can't say that I know I cheated, that because of the stunt with the berries, Peeta and I both lived. And Peeta and I are forced to shove our relationship into their unaccepting faces. Like, hello, please be giddy over our relationship and ignore the fact that your tributes will never have them!"

"Katniss!" Madge exclaims, "they knew it was a possibility once their names were called. They can't possibly fault you and Peeta for that, can they?"

"They can, and I'm more sure than ever, that they will." I get to my feet. "That's the thing Madge…there's never winners of the Games. It's live or die, but you stay a servant to the Capitol the rest of your life, you're just showcased. You stay in your district, keep quiet about how badly they're suffering, pretend everything is good back home, and convince everyone that your relationship is perfect, even when it may not be. No, we go from being insignificant servants, to the ones that follow their superiors because if they want to live, they have no other choice." I pull my hair slightly, "I never really thought I had a choice before, what I did with my life, but now. Now I really don't have a choice. If Snow wants me to do something, then he'll tell me…and I'll have to do it. Unfortunately that's the world I live in now…and I will carry with me the people that I killed for the rest of my life. Glimmer. Marvel. Cato ultimately. They're dead and it's all my fault."

"If you say so Katniss," she starts, "but in those situations, it's kill or be killed. There's no third option…well except for you and Peeta. And I – for one – don't fault you for killing Marvel. Rue was important to you, and he killed her, I can see how that would make you feel justified but also guilty. I get that much, but I can't understand the rest." She steps forward and hugs me, "there's nothing wrong with guilt, Katniss. I'd be concerned if you didn't feel any remorse at all. Just convey that during the Tour and you'll be fine. They've got to understand that."

I let her hug me and my arms wrap around her, "Thanks Madge. It means a lot." I pat her back and then pull away. "It means a lot, that you tried. No one else really has…well not this way, anyways. You genuinely care, and I value that. Thank you for being my friend…and for trying to help. That guilt will never go away for good, but for the minute…for the minute I am okay."

"Good," she rubs my arm, smiles and leaves back into town. Suddenly I'm feeling tired and worn out and decide to go back to my house and lay down. I'm emotionally drained right now, and for whatever reason, Madge's encouragement has just made me more so. I understand where she's coming from and I thank her greatly…but at the same time, I feel like a failure. And I am. I failed Rue. Now I know we couldn't have all made it out of there alive…and honestly, faced with the choice I don't know who I would have picked over the other…Peeta or Rue? The thought is nauseating and I walk faster to the house. I just get inside and am about to take my boots off when my mother shows up, looking worse for the wear than when I saw her a couple hours ago.

"Have a good walk?" she asks, oddly.

"Yes…" I'm not sure what's going on, but my mother is acting very very odd.

"We have company," Prim steps forward but then stops as two Peacekeepers emerge from the living room.

"This way, Miss Everdeen," says one and gestures into the study. I don't really know what to do so I follow them hesitantly. As I round the corner and turn into the room I'm shocked by the site…President Snow is sitting at the desk, looking intently at something in his hand, but I can't quite make it out from the doorway.

"President Snow," lie! "What a pleasure to see you."

"My dear, I think we can save ourselves a lot of time, if we promise not to lie to each other."

I nod, "yes I think that would save time." I walk forward and hesitantly take a seat opposite of him. This is my house and yet, suddenly, I feel like the foreigner in it, and not Snow. It's as if I haven't been the one living here for months. What is happening? Why is he here? Why is he in my house?


	2. Chapter 2

"So, let's get down to business, shall we?" he asks, his smile is not kind, but it's there. I nod and he continues, "I have a problem Miss Everdeen. A problem that started when you pulled those poisoned berries out to share with Peeta. There is a problem starting in the districts, which I hope to eradicate before it gets any worse."

"Oh?" I ask, "What is that? And _how_ can I help?"

"Well," he says, "the way they see it, that was your way of standing up to and defying the Capitol, and if a girl from District 12 can do it and get away with it, what's to prevent them from doing the same? What's to prevent, say, an uprising?"

"I don't think—" he shakes his head and I stop.

"It's already happening, Miss Everdeen." He shakes his head before continuing, "so what I need from you, what I need from this Victory Tour with Peeta, I need you to put any doubt anyone may have of your feelings for Peeta to rest – once and for all. I don't want anyone to be questioning your loyalty to him or your reasoning for saving him, as anything but an act of undying love."

"I do—"

"Not my problem. What is my problem, however, is that there are people that doubt it," he shrugs, "_I_ doubt it." Then his gaze narrows, "how is he? Splendid boy? Does he believe you to be sincere?"

"I think—"

"I'm not interested in what you have to say or think," he leans forward, "what I'm interested in, is if you can prove it. Don't just act like you love him, convince everyone that you _do_. Convince _me_. I don't want any more doubt between now and the end of the Victory Tour. I certainly hope all doubt, and all thoughts of rebellion are long gone before the Quarter Quell, because we don't need those doubts looming any longer than we have to. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I say. "I understand. Erase any doubt, don't cause an uprising, be in love with Peeta."

"Yes," he nods, "that's exactly what I want. And you won't like it if I don't get exactly what I want – if this, rebel rabble doesn't die down, you will have a lot, _far worse_, concerns if this is not dealt with. For example, imagine this town of yours reduced to ashes, everyone you loved, gone. Is that something that you want?"

"No."

"Then don't disappoint me, Miss Everdeen." He stands up and walks to the door, but before reaching it he stops and turns to me, "And remember, no lying. You promised. Do convince me. You don't want to see what happens when you don't." Then he left. Out of the room, out of the house, out of this district. Can't say I'm not relieved.

My mother and Prim rush into the room as soon as Snow has gone. They start to ask a bunch of questions when I'm reminded that the Victory Tour is leaving in a few hours, and I haven't seen any lights on at Haymitch's. "Sorry," I apologize, "I need to go make sure that Haymitch gets up." I run out of the door and grab a case of that vile drink Haymitch seems to love so much and dart out the door. Upon reaching Haymitch's house I have to hit the door with my hip in order to get it to open. He refuses to get it fixed.

"Haymitch!" I look around and don't see him until rounding another corner. "Haymitch, wake up." He doesn't move so I go over to and gently shove him, "the Tour starts in an hour." Nothing. I notice there is a bottle of water not far from us, I pick it up and dump it on his head, careful to jump back so that he doesn't slash me with his knife. I suppose if I'd been a victor as long as him, I might be the same way.

"What are you _doing_?" he hollers at me.

"The tour starts in an hour," I tell him. "So take a bath Haymitch."

"You are an strangely dislikable person," he tells me.

"I can live with that," I say placing the case of liquor on the table beside him.

"But you do have your virtues," he half smiles before grabbing one of them.

"I meant that though," I reiterate, "take a bath Haymitch."

"Okay," he nods. I turn from him and leave the house. Cinna should be here soon, and I'm not sure if I should tell him about Snow's visit or not. I'm not even sure if I should tell Peeta. I should probably tell Haymitch though he'd probably know what to do. Well, I hope he'd know what to do. Just as I anticipated as I reach the house my prep team, Cinna, and Effie Trinket have just entered my house. I run up the stairs and follow them in.

"Oh hello, hello, hello," says Effie in her distinctly Capitol voice. "How are you?"

"Good," I nod at her, though Cinna eyes me critically.

"We'll talk later," he says and I nod.

For the next forty minutes I'm prepped for the promo before the Victory Tour. We'll leave before the day is done. I'm not sure I'm ready to leave yet, but I don't have a choice. At least I'll have Peeta with me. I can't argue that. I'm not even aware of it until Effie is pushing me towards the front door.

"Come on, come on," she nudges, "it's show time!"

I take a tentative step towards the door when Caesar Flickerman's voice booms from the oddly shaped camera posted outside of my house. "There she is, Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire!" The camera follows me as I go down the steps and then shifts to Peeta quickly, "and there he is, Peeta Mellark, the baker's boy!" Peeta and I walk to each other, but his prosthetic leg is not as steady in the snow and he trips. I try to stop him but end up going down with him instead. "Uh oh!" calls Caesar.

"You okay?" Peeta whispers and I nod. "Still not quite used to this leg." I nod at him. He stands and then pulls me up into a sudden kiss, but not like our others, this one is different, I'm not sure how at the moment, but something is different. We both face the camera and he wraps his arm around my waist.

"Well, well, well," says Caesar, "how are you two this fine evening?"

"We're good," says Peeta vaguely. Very unlike him.

"So taciturn all the sudden, Peeta," I can just imagine the look on his face, and I say imagine, because I can't see it. We're looking at a one way camera. "Give us some details!"

"Things are great here in Twelve."

I'm not sure what's wrong with him, but the fact that he's acting this way makes me react, "Thanks to the generosity of the Capitol we've never been closer."

"20 yards to be exact." Peeta's voice is even, measured, what's changed with him in the last two hours?

"Well, alright," says Caesar hesitantly. "I guess we look forward to hearing more on your Victory Tour! See you in the Capitol! Good luck!" Then the camera shuts down and Effie is hollering at us about leaving in ten minutes, and how we can't miss the train, and somewhere along the lines of undergarments I tune her out.

"Peeta?" I face him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he nods and walks off towards his house.

What the hell just happened? He was fine...and now he's not. He's always been really chatty with Caesar...and now he's not. He's been so warm to me lately...and now he's not. Did something happen? Something between walking to town and now? As I watch him hobble back through the snow unsteady, a thousand questions run through my mind. The one overtaking them all...what happened to Peeta?

In ten minutes _exactly_ we are sitting on the train headed to District Eleven...Rue's district. I don't know how I'm going to get through this. She was my friend, and they killed her - well, Marvel killed her - but they put her in this arena, so it's the same thing. By her name being drawn she was sentenced to death. She may have gotten a good score, but apparently that didn't mean anything in the long run.

We're sitting at the dining table, Effie going on and on about our schedule, all the things we have to do, all the places we have to be. I've gotten pretty good at tuning her endless schedules out and only doing what's next when it comes...well that is until she says, "Enjoy your time in the spotlight, Katniss. You've earned it."

"What did you say?" I spit back.

"Katniss," Peeta says cautiously.

"I said, 'Enjoy your time in the spotlight, Katniss. You've earned it.'"

"By killing people," I don't think another second about what I've said or what she's just said I only get to my feet and abort the car as soon as I possibly can. I can't believe she said that, but at the same time I can. She's grown up in the Capitol, this is nothing new to her, well the only new thing is that she's finally had someone survive the Games, and not just one - but two. That's unprecedented and she knows that. The door to the car opens, "I'm really not in the mood for a lecture," I say to who is most assuredly Haymitch, to give me a drunken lecture about how rude that was. "I'll apologize to Effie later."

"I'm not asking you to apologize," it's Peeta, "not right now anyways. That was rude though. She doesn't know any better Katniss. She's grown up with the Games, she doesn't care about her Tributes, because it's pointless, but then we go and win...come on, she likes us both. Somehow, she likes us both."

"Is that supposed to be encouraging?" I ask him. He shrugs. "Hey! What happened earlier. Why so cold? Did I do something? Say something? Where did I go wrong? I thought we were okay."

Peeta shrugs, "I just…" he sighs, "I don't really know anything about you Katniss. I know you would risk your life to save mine, I know you enjoy hunting - and that you're good at it...but I don't know anything about _you._ What makes you tick, you know, the deep stuff."

"Uh oh," I smile, "like what?"

He thinks for a brief moment, "like, what's your favorite color?"

"Green," I say easily. "What's yours?"

"Orange," he says.

"Like Effie's hair?" I ask laughing.

"No," he shakes his head, "more like a sunset." We sit in silence a moment. "Look, Katniss, this Victory Tour, I'm sure it's going to be hard on you, but we have to do it. We won, against the rules, but we won and now we have to do this, parade around in front of the families of the tributes we killed, or that at least had to die so that we could be here. You're going to need someone in your corner. You know Haymitch and I will be, you're just like him. And we're going to need Effie, too."

"I know," I sigh. He's right of course. "I'll apologize."

"Good," he nods. "Really good. And nothing insincere. Mean it when you say you're sorry."

"I will," I shrug-nod.

"Be more convincing than that and you'll be fine," he smiles at me.

I just glance out of the window and notice Mockingjay graffiti. We're going through some sort of tunnel. "Did you see that?"

"What?" he asks as we emerge from the tunnel and gates behind us close and we see high fences with guards positioned everywhere. Rue didn't make it sound quite this horrible. Or maybe she did and I just didn't understand. "Whoa!" says Peeta, that for the both of us.

Effie comes trotting into the car, "time to go, go, go, go, go. Time to impress the members of District Eleven. The tributes from this district are Thresh and Rue." She almost floats over to us. "Here are your speaking cards." She puts them out in front of us.

"I can do the talking, if you want?" Peeta asks.

"Thank you," I say sincerely. He nods, and then tilts his head in Effie's direction. "Effie," she looks at me. "I'm sorry about earlier."

"It's okay, Katniss," she says turning.

"It's not, and I'm sorry."

"Thank you," she says over her shoulder, her voice breaking. She's out the door in seconds. Great, now I've made Effie Trinket cry. I'm never going to live that one down, but did she really have to say it that way. To _enjoy_ the spotlight, because we _earned_ it? I guess so.

"That's not exactly what I had in mind," says Peeta, "when I said sincere."

"She cried," I shrug. "I guess it was sincere enough for her."

Peeta shrugs, "Perhaps, but there's no real way of knowing for sure."

"Maybe not," I tell him.

We exit the train to armed Peacekeepers lining the outside of the station. "This isn't very festive!" complains Effie. As we make our way to City Hall Effie once again states the importance of the fact that this starts the tour, and we need to start it strong. We get that, really we do. I'm more worried about Snow though, about unintentionally causing an uprising, about not convincing Snow and the people in the districts that what I feel for Peeta is genuine. But Effie was right about one thing, it all starts here.

We're escorted to the City Hall and are inside briefly before it's "showtime" and Effie is adjusting my hair, and Peeta's jacket and then our names are called and we step forward. The mayor is nice, but I think he cared about one of the tributes, or just resents us for both winning, but his voice is harsh, cold even. He doesn't like us, and I suppose I understand why. I've always hated the Victory Tours. It's like a celebration of death. Or at least, that's how I've always seen it. Like, _hey, sorry your loved one died and I won, but thanks for offering them up._ Yeah, it's inhumane. It's not right.

Peeta gets right down to it, reciting Effie's cue cards easily, seamlessly, and he couldn't have read them more than once, but I've always known Peeta had a way with words...why is he putting the cards down?

"Though they fought with honor and dignity until the end," he says. Where is he going with this? "Both Thresh and Rue were so young. But our lives aren't just measured in years, they're measured in the lives of the people we touch around us. For myself, for Katniss. We know that without Rue and without Thresh, we wouldn't be standing here today. So in recognition of that, knowing that it in no way can make up for your loss, we'd like to donate one month of our winnings to the families of the tributes every year for the rest of our lives."

He looks at me and I nod, we take a step back but then I meet the piercing gaze of one of Rue's little sisters. How can I come here, and act like they didn't matter to me, that Rue didn't matter to me, that I wasn't grateful for their costly gift? No, I have to say something. I step tentatively back to the microphone, Peeta following me back up.

"I just wanted to say that I didn't know Thresh I only spoke to him once." I have no idea where I'm going with this, but I might as well keep going. "He could've killed me but instead he showed me mercy. That's a debt I'll never be able to repay. I did know Rue. She wasn't just my ally, she was my friend. I see her in the flowers that grow in the meadow by my house. I hear her in mockingjay song. I see her in my sister Prim. She was too young. Too gentle. And I couldn't save her. I'm sorry."

Then in the middle of the crowd an elderly man raises the three finger salute of my district and whistles Rue's tune. It's less than a second before the guards are upon him. I'm screaming, but they're pulling me back inside. The doors slam in my face but I just catch the sound of a gunshot and see the old man collapse from the shot.

I spin around to Haymitch, "_what did I do_?"

He looks around, "not here." He leads us up and up inside this building, how he knows where to go, I have no idea, but because he seems to know where he's going, I follow. Once we've gotten to what looks like an attic Haymitch rounds on us. Talks - in hushed, but aggressive tones - about how we had one task, one thing to do, and we kind of already messed that up, we have ten more districts to go, and this was not a good way to start the tour. I end up blurting about Snow's visit, oops, suppose I should have told him about that earlier. He's disappointed, I don't like it when Haymitch is disappointed...I'm not necessarily surprised, but it is not a pleasant feeling.

Eventually - thankfully - the dinner comes and goes and then we are back on the train and leaving again. It's a relief. But I try sleeping and the nightmares are as bad, as vivid, and as terrifying as ever. I wake screaming, not that that is uncommon, but Peeta rushes into my room. "You okay?" he asks as I try to get my bearings again.

"Just a bad dream," I say. He nods knowingly.

"I get them too," he nods at me and then says, "good night." He turns to the door to leave and I can't help myself.

"Peeta," I say.

"Yeah," he faces me again.

"Will you stay with me?" he looks surprised.

"Yeah," he says and walks right over to the bed and gets in beside me. I curl up beside him and it's like we're back in that cave, and we're now protecting each other from nightmares. There are no tributes here to kill us, no physically alive ones, that is, but they are in our dreams, well mine anyways, he doesn't seem to move at all. He's here though. That's what I need now, and Peeta is ever so obliging. Because that's who he is, that's what he does...that's Peeta.


	3. Chapter 3

A day later on the train Peeta comes right to bed with me without hesitation, my nightmares aren't as bad with him by my side and I think that he needs me there too, well that's what I'm telling myself anyways. I certainly hope that he wants me around, that my presence somehow makes him feel better, safer, protected...something along those lines anyway. However this night is different, and I don't really know what it is, but I have this strange desire - need? - to talk to Haymitch, so I slowly get out of the bed and leave the room. I make my way to the food car, my guess is he has some sort of alcohol with him, so that's probably the surest bet as to where he would be right now.

To no surprise at all, he's slumped in a chair, barefooted, with a bottle in hand. Can't say that his lack of shoes is surprising either. I don't really know why he seems to dislike shoes so much, but I'm not here to judge, plus I have no idea why they're there anyways. I walk over to him and kick his foot with my own. He startles awake.

"Haymitch?" I lean forward.

"That would be me," he slurs, attempting to sit up but then giving up when his third attempt got him nowhere. "What can I do for you sweetheart?"

"You'll help us get through this trip right?" I ask, sounding more desperate than I thought I was. "If we can just get through this trip, through this tour, we can go back to normal, things can be the same as they were before."

"You're really telling me you're the same girl you were before the arena?" he laughs. "You're forgetting I was in one of them sweetheart. There is no normal after the arena. Nothing is the same and no one understands, unless they were there. So I guess you, dough-eyed boy, and I all have something in common," he hesitates, "we're going to live sad, pathetic little lives from now on, but at least we'll have each other."

"Haymitch!" I plead, "please just help us get through this trip!"

"This trip, girl?" he asks, "Wake up! This trip doesn't end when you get home. You never get off this train." He's forced himself into a sitting position. "You two are mentors now, that means that every year they're gonna drag you out and broadcast the details of your romance. Every year your private life becomes theirs. From now on your job is to be a distraction so that people forget what the real problems are." He shakes his head.

"What do we do?" I say falling into the seat across from him.

"You're gonna smile," he glares, "you're gonna _read_ the cards that Effie gives you - no more 'we're sorry, have some money' changes - and you're gonna live happily ever after. You think you can do that?" He waits till I meet his gaze. "Huh?"

I nod, then we sit in silence until I feel myself getting tired again, so I get up and walk back to my room, crawl into my bed and escape into peaceful sleep with Peeta's warm body beside me. Happily Ever After, would certainly be something I could live with. Now that Peeta's in my life, frankly, I can't picture a life where he's not in it, and honestly I wouldn't even be here now if it wasn't for him giving me that bread when I was on my way out of this world. He knows how to take care of me, and that's hardly something to argue about.

The next few nights on the train go by fast, the districts are torture, and more than one of them resulted in a salute, whistle, and someone being dragged away. Despite my best efforts, we're not getting anywhere, the districts are still going to rebel no matter what I do, good or bad, believable or not, the districts have suffered too long. I started this, and now I don't think even _I_ could end it, even _if_ I wanted to, and I'm not sure that I do.

After one of the districts Peeta, Haymitch and I are sitting in the train car, discussing what needs to happen next, how we still seem to be, so hopelessly, unconvincing. My lips are chapped from how much kissing Peeta and I have been doing, but apparently it's just not having the desired effect. Haymitch is going on and on about things that we could do when something comes to me.

"We could get married," I say and their eyes dart to me.

"That's not funny," Haymitch says condescendingly.

"I'm serious," I shrug. "You said so yourself, we're on this train for the rest of our lives. It's going to happen anyway, why not now?" Peeta is stoic beside me, but I still keep my eyes trained on Haymitch. If he thinks it's a bad idea I'll drop it but if-

"That does send a message," he smiles.

"Do you think it will work?" I ask him.

"Peeta?" Haymitch looks at him and only now do I allow myself a glance at him.

"Sure," he shrugs. "Let's do it," and then he's on his feet leaving the train car.

I start to move but Haymitch's voice stops me, "Don't. Give him some time to process this."

"I thought he wanted it, anyway," I say.

"Not like this," Haymitch says. "He wanted it to be real."

"It is-" He cuts me off.

"Let's be real here," he leans forward, "we _both_ know that if Snow hadn't gone to see you, marrying _anyone_, even Peeta, would have been nowhere near the front of your mind. You would have put it off until you couldn't anymore. Just give him some time to process what the situation is, why you suggested it, and let him understand why this is the right thing to do...when he wanted to or not. He values your life and he wouldn't put that in jeopardy for anything - or anyone - else." I nod. He's right. "Now go to sleep, get your frowny face away from mine. And give Peeta some space. You guys don't need to sleep together every night on this train."

"We haven't," I tell him. He only laughs and downs what liquid was left in his glass.

I walk from the room and make it to bed. We had an interview for Caesar Flickerman's show and Peeta proposed. I'll be honest, my heart skipped a beat. I wouldn't have expected that, but I do care about Peeta, so I guess it shouldn't be that surprising. Peeta gave me a very simple ring, big, but that's what you get when you have access to Capitol jewels for being ungodly wealthy because you won a stupid Game where you killed people. Anyways, it was sweet. You can always trust Peeta to be sweet.

President Snow even makes an appearance to the show, he must have been watching because he came to offer congratulations - fake I'm sure - and I made eye contact with him and asked with my eyes if it worked, pleaded that I had convinced him, that this engagement had worked, that he believed me now...but instead he imperceptibly shakes his head. I was wrong. We failed.

Soon enough it's time for the party at the President's mansion. Only thing that happened worth noting was how no one truly ate the food there. People are starving in the districts and the Capitol is living like royalty and not even stomaching what they do eat, they just throw it up like there is an endless supply of...supplies...then again maybe there is here in the Capitol, but there certainly is not in the districts. It would seem to bother only those that know just how hard it is to live anywhere but here in the Capitol.

I danced with the new Head Gamemaker, his name's Plutarch Heavensbee, seems interesting enough. He had my mockingjay in his pocket watch, not entirely sure what that was all about, but he wasn't altogether unpleasant, just probably wouldn't want to find myself alone with him in a room, I don't know what might happen if that were ever to be the case. It was an unpleasant dance in that his hands were on me. I'm not used to - or comfortable - being touched by anyone that's not Peeta or my family.

I woke to find myself in Peeta's arms, I don't even remember him coming in last night, I try to move so as not to disturb him, but he's already awake.

"No nightmares," he says.

"What?" I ask.

"You didn't have any nightmares last night," he says.

He's right. For the first time in ages I've slept through the night. "I had a dream, though," I say, thinking back. "I was following a mockingjay through the woods. For a long time. It was Rue, really. I mean, when it sang, it had her voice." I continue to tell him about the dream when a thought occurred to me. "Peeta, how come I never know when you're having a nightmare?" I say.

"I don't know. I don't think I cry out or thrash around or anything, I just come to, paralyzed with terror," he says.

"You should wake me," I say, thinking about how I can interrupt his sleep two or three times on a bad night. About how long it can take to calm me down.

"It's not necessary. My nightmares are usually about losing you," he says. "I'm okay once I realize you're here." The gentleness, the sincerity, the way that he says this makes me think that happily ever after might be possible, and that it might be possible with Peeta. My thoughts linger on the idea for several moments. "Be worse when we're home and I'm sleeping alone again," he says. And I suppose he's right. About more than just about that, it's true, we're almost home.

When the train pulled back into the station we were greeted by our neighbors, I can't really say friends, because the only people I'd really consider even close to that would just be Gale, Madge, Peeta, and Haymitch. I don't have any friends really, and I don't care. Peeta seemed to be quite popular in school, he always seemed to be hanging out with someone. It was usually Delly Cartwright and her goons. Well, I don't know where that came from.

Stepping off the platform we make our way out of the station and over to the City Hall, we - unfortunately - have one more party to attend, and then - thankfully - we'll be done with the Victory Tour. Here's hoping we never have to go on one again. Not that I want more tributes from our district to die, but I just really don't want to go on another one of those again as long as I live.

Madge's friendship is probably the only reason I made it through that dinner alive. I'm so burnt out from the Tour that all I want to do is crawl into my bed and sleep the rest of my life away. Being a victor sucks, and as Peeta pointed out last night, we're sleeping alone again, which means the nightmares will come, with no one to calm me down after. I'll be alone again, and that's not a feeling I enjoy.

After my prep team finally finished getting me into "peak perfection" I decided to wander around the house. I haven't been in the Undersee house quite as often as a real friend ought to be, but I make the best with what I've got going on. I'm almost to Madge's room when the sounds from a TV in another room stop me. They're saying something about District 8 and there being some sort of issues there...what looks like a mob scene is in the streets, there are still banners with the faces of myself and Peeta blowing in the wind. We were only there last week, so it would seem, that the situation has done the opposite of what we had hoped it would do . . . it got worse.

After I fully grasp all that's going on, I dart for the door and start down the hallway. I can never unsee that, and I can't ignore it either. This is what's happened as a result of those berries, this is what I started, this is the bed I've made for myself and the people of Panem, and now I've got to lie in it.

"Looking for Madge?" asks the Mayor as I round a corner.

"Yes, I want to show her my dress," I said.

"Well, you know where to find her." Just then, another round of beeping came from his study. His face turned grave. "Excuse me," he said. He went into his study and closed the door tightly. Whatever's going on, he doesn't want anybody else to know about it...though, from what I saw, I can understand his caution.

I find Madge down the hall in her room, she's looking forward to this dinner, probably less than I am. She's a private person too and I'm sure this - to her - is similar to how I felt when President Snow was in my house not long ago. I definitely don't blame her for her unease. It's completely justified, given the current situation that we unfortuately, seem to find ourselves in.

"You okay, Katniss?" she asks me.

"Yeah, fine," I say. "How are you?"

"Ready for this party to be over and it hasn't even started yet." She sighs and slumps into a chair. "Don't get me wrong Katniss, I'm glad you're alive and all but this is all a bit much for me. I don't do parties."

"Good," I tell her. "Neither do I. We can be miserable together." She smiled at that and we wait the last fifteen minutes together in silence. I'm finding that I value silence so much more than sound at this point. Winning the Games may very well be the worst thing that's ever happned to me. But I don't have a choice anymore. This is my life now, noise and big parties, I may as well get used to it right now. That won't happen, but it's something to aspire to. A goal...useless and pointless, but a goal nonetheless.

It always feels like the world is going to end right before it gets going again. That, sadly, never seems to change much. I have concluded that the world doesn't like me. That's why I was put in that arena and forced to kill other people. I've tried to picture what it would have been like if I hadn't been successful in getting Peeta out too, the thought is never welcome, but it still comes from time to time. I don't think it would work, I don't think I could function if Peeta had died in that arena.

It's not right, the Games, but no one has challenged that...not yet anyways. And Snow would not have come to me if the threat of a rebellion wasn't so strong. The people are uneasy, they're tired of being used, of dying and no one cares, do I think that could push them to start a rebellion? Yes. Do I think they will? I don't know, and I suppose that is what worries me the most...the fact that I have no idea what my people are capable of...that it seems, I may not be able to stop whats coming next, and the terror, in fact, that I may not truly care about it at all.

I don't think District 12 would be dumb enough, we're already scrutinized enough for the role Peeta and I played...our district can't join, we'd be devastated. Snow certainly meant every word of that threat. Nothing I say or do will sway him on that. Nothing. I can do nothing else. I've failed, Snow knows it, I know it, and thats what I'm worried about...he doesn't make empty promises, that much I know to be true. That much I know to fear.

"Katniss, are you okay?" It's Peeta. Looking around, somehow, at some point in time I made it to the dinner, but I seem to have forgotten all of it up until this moment. "You've been quiet all night. Is something wrong?" I make eye contact with him and shake my head. He gives me a disapproving look, he knows me too well. "We'll talk later." I nod and look around just as Mayor Undersee calls the evening to a close. It hadn't fully hit me until right now, that I'll be sleeping alone again, and there will be no relief upon waking up from my dreams to find myself wrapped in his protective arms. No, when I wake up now, I will be alone, with no one there the protect me. No Peeta, no one. And that's a scary fact in and of itself. He loves me, I know that, this won't be easy for him either, he said as much last night, and I can see why. If most of his are about losing me, there will be no relief in his waking either.

I head home without too much thought into how I got there. That tour was exhausting. As if I didn't hate myself enough for the Games in general and how everyone else had to die so that Peeta and I could be standing there and thanking the parents or grandparents of the tributes for their sacrifice...its not as if they had a choice. Because we don't, and I'm not ready to mentor someone else on their way to their death. But that's what Peeta and I are supposed to be doing now, I don't think he's ready for it yet either, but we don't have a choice, soon enough we'll be at another Reaping...and Prim will be in it again, I may never have my name in the bowl again, but hers will be, and there's nothing I can do about it.

"That was a lovely dinner," my mother says as we enter the house. I nod and retreat immediately to my room, yank my dress of and crawl into bed. No one can bother me here, but if I was going to let anyone it would be Peeta, I'd let him crawl right into bed with me. I don't want to sleep alone, but here it is, me. Sleeping alone.

On almost cue I'm woken up by a nightmare, I'm back in the arena, and so is Peeta, but this time two of the tributes are our children. How could this have happened? Why would I have even allowed myself any children in the first place, Snow must have forced us to have children and the drawing was probably rigged too because we weren't the only victors in the arena, and in fact if I remember correctly, other victors' children were in the arena as well.

How the hell would that work in real life? As a parent there's no way you could kill someone else's children, right? Ugh, that's probably the most depressing Game I've dreamt of so far. They can't possibly get worse from here, can they? I guess I'll never really know, well I don't ever want them too, but hoping is not enough in this regard...I'm almost certain that if Snow got the idea for this he would do it...he's sick like that. I can't sleep, it's true, I can't. I don't know if I could sleep if I had children in the Games, I guess I can see where those wanting to rebel are coming from, but I still don't think it's a good idea. Snow is just too powerful. No one man should ever have that much power...and yet, here we are.


	4. Chapter 4

_**I know that a somewhat fair portion of this chapter comes from the book or the movie, but they've been too important, in my opinion, to change or omit from my story, so they are included here. But this is just a forenote to one and all who read this. Thank you also, to those of you who have reviewed this story already, who have followed it and favorited it, you guys are fantastic as always! Special thanks to kimbaleena2002, you're just wonderful all around. :-)**_

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><p>The next day - Sunday - I find myself in the meadow as always. I owe Gale an apology for not coming before. He deserved at least an explanation as far as to why I didn't come, not that I really know the answer to it anyways. I didn't want to come, I was having Game flashbacks, was I supposed to tell him that? He can't understand that. He likes to think he can, but he <em>can't<em> and I'm not going to try to make him understand something that he - in no way - will ever truly understand.

Almost as if on cue, I hear the crinkling of leaves coming from behind me. It's Gale, I know that already, Peeta's not that quiet. He tries to be, he tries to be quiet, but his leg doesn't allow that. It's loud. He can't do anything about that, so as a result I don't take him to the meadow, plus this is my and Gale's thing, I'd feel wrong bringing Peeta into it, bringing Peeta here. Peeta and I will always have the Games, and the Victory Tour...this is the one thing that Gale and I have, and I'm not going to just throw that away.

"Does your fiance know you're here?" he asks cuttingly. I turn to face him and his expression is hard and hurt, no doubt feeling betrayed by my engagement to Peeta, but what exactly was he expecting? I could spend hours explaining why Peeta and I got engaged, every possible reason to try and defuse his anger, but that won't do, so instead I get right to the heart of my defense.

"President Snow personally threatened to have you killed," I say.

Gale raises his eyebrows slightly, but there's no real show of fear or astonishment. "Anyone else?"

"Well, he didn't actually give me a copy of the list. But it's a good guess it includes both our families," I say.

"Unless what?"

"Unless nothing, now," I say. Obviously this requires more of an explanation but I have no idea where to start, so I continue sitting on the boulder and staring at the ground. "Gale, I do have a plan though."

"Oh, yeah?" he looks both unconvinced and uninterested. "Here," he says tossing me back a pair of gloves I gave him the other day. "I don't want your fiance's gloves."

"They aren't Peeta's gloves," I catch them while they're still in the air. "And he's not my fiance. They were Cinna's gloves."

"Give them back then," he pulls them from my hands. "At least I'll die in comfort." I start to tell him about my situation, about everything, starting after Peeta and I won the Games, all the way up until Snow's threat. Gaging his reaction isn't usually this hard, I don't know what he's thinking.

"Well, you really have made a mess of things," he tells me coolly.

"I'm not even done-"

"Well, I've heard enough for now," he says shaking his head. "Let's hear more about this grand plan of yours."

"Well, I wouldn't go so far as to call it 'grand.'"

"Okay, not important. What's your plan, Katniss?" he crosses his arms over his chest.

"We run away."

"What?" he asks. This seems to have actually caught him off guard.

"We take to the woods and make a run for it," I say. His face is impossible to read. Will he laugh at me, dismiss this as foolishness? I rise in agitation, preparing for an argument. "You said yourself you thought that we could do it! The morning of the reaping. You said-"

He steps and I feel myself lifted off the ground. The world spins, and I have to lock my arms around Gale's neck to brace myself. He's laughing, happy. Gale sets me down but doesn't release his hold on me. "Okay, let's run away."

"Really? You don't think I'm mad? You'll go with me?"

"I _do_ think you're mad and I'll _still_ go with you," he says. "We can do it. I know we can. Let's get out of here and never come back!"

"You're sure?" I say. "Because it's going to be hard, with the kids and all. I don't want to get five miles into the woods and have you-"

"I'm sure. I'm completely, entirely, one hundred percent sure." He tilts his forehead down to rest against mine and pulls me closer. I should pull away, I feel like I should, but why? His voice drops to a whisper, "I love you."

That's why.

I come up with what must be the worst possible response. "I know."

I can see him swallowing disappointment. "So, we'll go."

We talk about his family and how his mother may take some convincing, but that we know she'll see it as the best choice, and come anyways. "Haymitch will be the real challenge."

"Haymitch?" Gale says. "You're not asking him to come with us?"

"I have to, Gale. I can't leave him and Peeta because they'd-" His scowl cuts me off. "What?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize how large our party was," he snaps at me.

"They'd torture them to death, trying to find out where I was," I say.

"What about Peeta's family? They'll never come. In fact, they probably couldn't wait to inform on us. Which I'm sure he's smart enough to realize. What if he decides to stay?" he asks.

I try to sound indifferent, but my voice cracks. "Then he stays."

"You'd leave him behind?" Gale asks.

"To save Prim and my mother, yes," I answer. "I mean, no! I'll get him to come."

"And me, would you leave me?" Gale's expression is rock hard now. "Just if, for instance, I can't convince my mother to drag three young kids into the wilderness in winter."

"Hazelle won't refuse. She'll see sense," I say.

"Suppose she doesn't, Katniss. What then?" he demands.

"Then you have to force her, Gale. Do you think I'm making this stuff up?" My voice is rising in anger as well.

"No. I don't know. Maybe the president's just manipulating you. I mean, he's throwing your wedding. You saw how the Capitol crowd reacted. I don't think he can afford to kill you. Or Peeta. How's he going to get out of that one?" says Gale.

"Well, with the uprising in District Eight, I doubt he's spending much time choosing my wedding cake!" I shout.

The instant the words are out of my mouth I want to reclaim them. Their effect on Gale is immediate - the flush in his cheeks, the brightness of his gray eyes. "There's an uprising in Eight?" he says in a hushed voice.

I try to backpedal. To defuse him, as I tried to defuse the districts. "I don't know if it's really an uprising. There's unrest. People in the streets-" I say.

Gale grabs my shoulders. "What did you see?"

"Nothing! In person. I just heard something." As usual, it's too little, too late. I give up and tell him. "I should have just died in that arena. Peeta could have come home and lived, and everyone else would have been safe, too."

"Safe to do what?" he says in a gentler tone. "Starve? Work like slaves? Send their kids to the reaping? You haven't hurt people - you've given them an opportunity. They just have to be brave enough to take it. There's already been talk in the mines. People who want to fight. Don't you see? It's happening! It's finally happening! If there's an uprising in District Eight, why not here? Why not everywhere? This could be it, the thing we've been-"

"Stop it! You don't know what you're saying. The Peacekeepers outside of Twelve, they're not like Darius, or even Cray! The lives of district people - they mean less than nothing to them!" I say.

"That's why we have to join the fight!" he answers harshly.

"No! We have to leave here before they kill us and a lot of other people, too!" I'm yelling again, but I can't understand why he's doing this. Why doesn't he see what's so undeniable?

Gale pushes me roughly away from him. "You leave, then. I'd never go in a million years."

"You're just mad about-"

"You could do so much." He throws Cinna's gloves on the ground. "I changed my mind. I don't want anything they made in the Capitol." And he's gone.

I eventually convince myself to leave the meadow and see Peeta almost immediately as he's heading toward the bakery. I run over to him and walk with him. I may not have an opportunity again soon. I take a deep breath and let the words rush out. "Peeta, if I asked you to run away from the district with me, would you?"

Peeta takes my arm, bringing me to a stop. He doesn't need to check my face to see I'm serious. "Depends on why you're asking."

"President Snow wasn't convinced by me. There's an uprising in District Eight. We have to get out," I say.

"By 'we' do you mean just you and me? No. Who else would be going?" he asks.

"My family. Yours, if they want to come. Haymitch, maybe," I say.

"What about Gale?" he says.

"I don't know. He might have other plans," I say.

Peeta shakes his head and gives me a rueful smile. "I bet he does. Sure, Katniss, I'll go."

I feel a slight twinge of hope. "You will?"

"Yeah. But I don't think for a minute you will," he says.

I jerk my arm away. "Then you don't know me. Be ready. It could be any time." I take off walking and he follows a pace or two behind.

"Katniss," Peeta says. I don't slow down. If he thinks it's a bad idea, I don't want to know, because it's the only one I have. "Katniss, hold up." I kick a dirty, frozen chunk of snow off the path and let him catch up. The coal dust makes everything look especially ugly. "I really will go, if you want me to. I just think we better talk it through with Haymitch. Make sure we won't be making things worse for everyone." I nod. I can see his reasoning.

As we continue to make our way towards town there is a large group of people gathered there. It's highly unusual. I don't know what would be so interesting that nearly all of the district would be there for it. I try to make my way forward, but Peeta's already beat me to a spot.

"Turn around, Katniss." He says harshly. "Go home." I look at him astonished that he would be telling me to do anything. "Please, Katniss," he says pleadingly. "I'm begging you. Just go home and I'll meet you there."

"No," I say. "What's going on, Peeta?" I shove my way past Peeta and a large group of clustered people. All seem to be pleading with me not to go any farther, and more than one set of arms tries to deter me.

"Katniss!" Peeta hisses behind me just as I make it through the crowd. Now I see why everyone was pushing me back, and now I know whose screams I thought I heard, but refused to believe. Gale is tied with his arms above his head on a post. There's a Peacekeeper standing there with a whip. As his hand falls another time I rush forward.

"No!" I throw myself between Gale and the new Peacekeeper. "Stop!"

"Get out of the way!" he scolds as he hits me once with the whip, it gets near my eye, but seeing as I can still see what's in front of me, I ignore the pain. "I'll whip you too just as easily."

"Go ahead." I straighten myself up, and the new Peacekeeper raises his gun at me.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Yells Haymitch as he positions himself between the Peacekeeper, his gun, and myself. "You don't want to shoot her." The Peacekeeper looks offended.

"How about I shoot both of you?" he spits at Haymitch.

"Look, Commander," says Haymitch. "You're new here. Trust me, I'm trying to help you. I'm Haymitch. You recognize her? Katniss Everdeen? Darling of the Capitol?"

"She interfered with a Peacekeeper," he spits out.

"I never said she was smart," says Haymitch, and I know that comment should probably offend me, but given that he's trying to save me from being whipped in addition to Gale, I decide to let him have this. "Look, I-I...you already got a few lashes in

"That's not good enough! She's an agitator!" he hisses. "And he was poaching! What business is it of hers, anyway?"

"Whoa," says Peeta throwing himself in front of Haymitch, myself, and Gale. "He's her cousin." Haymitch pushes Peeta back who grabs my arm, but gently. "And she's my fiancee. So if you want to get to him, expect to go through both of us."

Maybe we're it. The only three people in the district who could make a stand like this. Although it's sure to be temporary. There will be repercussions.

"Look," Haymitch speaks again, "are you sure Snow wants three dead Victors here, cause that's what we're looking at. It's bad enough that you marked up her face on the eve of the big wedding. Let it go, and we will too." The new Peacekeeper seems less than agreeable but seeing that the crowd has become restless, he relents.

"Alright," he says seething. "But next time it's the firing squad."

"Excellent idea," says Haymitch to counter the threat.

"I don't care who she is," he scowls at the group of us, and then spits out, "get him out of here," says the Peacekeeper. "Clear the square!" He bellows to the crowd, "anyone caught out after dark - will be shot on sight!" The crowd disburses soon enough, and the only people left are the three of us and several miners who have come to help Gale.

"Better get him to your mother," says Haymitch, and no one argues.

It doesn't take long for us to get him home with everyone concerned, my mother gets right to work. I suppose this is one of the benefits of living in the Victors Village, it's close to town and we can be either places in no time at all. My mother gets right to work on his cuts and Prim helps. She'll be just like my mother someday, a healer, and she will have children, because she'd make an excellent mother. I'm too scarred to make a suitable mother. No child would ever want me...though I suppose I may never actually have a choice.

After Gale is asleep because of the morphine, everyone leaves, but I'm determined to stay with Gale. With how much pain he's in, he shouldn't be alone, and I'm his friend - his best friend - I can't abandon him now, when he needs me most. I'll take care of him, just like he did my family when I was in the Games, and I'll take care of his family. It's the pact we made, and I intend to stay true to it.

When my mother notices my eye, its not long before she's fussing over me. I assure her that I'm fine and it's only swollen shut. Ever so gently, my mother begins to clean the mutilated flesh on Gale's back. I feel sick to my stomach, useless, the remaining snow dripping from my glove into a puddle on the floor. Peeta puts me in a chair and holds a cloth filled with fresh snow to my cheek. When things have calmed down Haymitch and Peeta are both willing to stay, but my mother sends them home to bed as well.

Sometimes I wish I'd just died in that arena. Sometimes I find myself wishing that Seneca Crane had blown me to bits, like he was supposed to, that only one victor would be crowned, but that didn't happen and here I am. And all because I kept those poisoned berries.

The berries. I realize the answer to who I am lies in that handful of poisonous fruit. If I held them out to save Peeta because I knew I would be shunned if I came back without him, then I'm despicable. If I held them out because I loved him, I am still self-centered, although forgivable. But if I held them out to defy the Capitol, I am someone of worth. The trouble is, I don't know exactly what was going on inside me at that moment.

Gale comes to, for just a moment, he says hello and I say hello back. He makes a comment about how he thinks I'd be gone by now, but I reassure him that that wasn't going to happen. I'm going to stay right here.

I'm not sure how much later but someone gives my shoulder a shake and I wake up. I've fallen asleep with my face on the table. The white cloth has left creases on my good cheek. The other, the one that took the lash from Thread, throbs painfully. Gale's dead to the world, but his fingers are locked around mine. I smell fresh bread and turn my stiff neck to find Peeta looking down at me with such a sad expression. I get the sense that he's been watching us awhile.

At Peeta's behest I make my way up to my room and collapse into sleep, but the nightmares come, as they must, and I wake up screaming. I find myself wishing that Peeta was here to hold me, but with Gale right downstairs, and all that's happened...and we're home, we're not on a train anymore, I can't want this...except that I do, and I can't get over that feeling.

I understand that now would be the ideal time for a rebellion, that they could actually get somewhere, and I did set things in motion, but they deserve a leader...a real genuine leader. One with conviction and hope of a better tomorrow...not one of a terrified 17 year old girl that is worried that if they don't rebel she'll have to watch her children's names get drawn and watch them go into an arena and die, and how Peeta and I would be helpless to stop it. Yes I think of children, and a family, and I think of Peeta...I don't think that has to do with the Capitol or Snow pushing us to make the long-term commitment.

Another thing. Words. When I think of words I think of Peeta. How people can embrace everything he says. He could move a crowd to action, I bet, if he chose to. Would find the things to say. But I'm sure the idea has never crossed his mind.

I head downstairs to find my mother and Prim tending to a still unconscious Gale, but I don't want to wake him, if his back hurts worse than my face, I don't want him to wake to that pain, no, it's better to let him sleep. We can talk later. I look around the room and into the hall and find the house empty. "Where's Peeta?" I say.

"He went home when we heard you stirring. Didn't want to leave his house unattended during the storm," says my mother.

"Did he get back all right?" I ask. In a blizzard, you can get lost in a matter of yards and wander off course into oblivion.

"Why don't you give him a call and check?" she says.

I go into the study, a room I've pretty much avoided since my meeting with President Snow, and dial Peeta's number. After a few rings he answers.

"Hey. I just wanted to make sure you got home," I say.

"Katniss, I live three houses away from you," he says.

"I know, but with the weather and all," I say.

"Well, I'm fine. Thank you for checking."

It takes two days for the storm to calm down but the first change I get, I call Peeta to see if he wants to go into town with me. While in town we visit Hazelle to give her an update on Gale. When we're outside, I turn to Peeta. "You go on back. I want to walk by the Hob."

"I'll go with you," he says.

"No. I've dragged you into enough trouble," I tell him.

"And avoiding a stroll by the Hob … that's going to fix things for me?" He smiles and takes my hand. Together we wind through the streets of the Seam until we reach the burning building.

In the next few days it's appalling, but the number of kids signing up for tesserae soars, as a direct result of the Peacekeepers burning the Hob to the ground. The new Peacekeepers have taken over, there's no one to argue with, not if you don't want to get whipped, or anything like that. The woods are forbidden, Gale doesn't even risk it anymore, but one morning...I do.

When I'm in the woods, I do the one thing I know how to do, I fetch my bow and arrows and begin to force a path through the drifted snow. I'm determined to get to the lake and I don't know why, but I'm not stopping now, I'm committed.


	5. Chapter 5

When I pack up and decide that it's finally time to go home I'm confronted by an electric fence that is actually on. It's been on in times before but we didn't have Thread then and I'm pretty sure that it's on now as a result of him being here. One way or the other this is not good and I'm assuming that it's probably not going to turn off any time soon, and if I don't get back to my mother and Prim shortly they will be nothing but worried and I can't have that.

I climb a nearby tree and look for a safe spot to land...there is none. Not a single place to lessen the blow of a fall. If I jump from this tree to the other side I'm sure to break something, and since no one is expecting me to be here, I will have to make it home on my own. The likelihood that the pain will be so intense it could render me unconscious is the only reason why I'm still up in this tree. I need to get home, but I don't want to jump.

When I realize there really is no other option I scoot carefully to the end of the longest branch and dangle above the ground. Looking down I take a deep breath and let go of the branch, falling to the ground. Upon contact, as sure as I thought, I've broken something. The walk home is excruciating. In no way was this a good idea, but there was nothing else I could do.

I get to the door of my house ready to collapse because my left heel can no longer bear any weight but I'm shocked to find two Peacekeepers inside my house. There's a flicker of surprise on the mans face as I enter, no doubt he thought I was in the woods which, to be fair, I was...but he is shocked to see me, that much is certain.

"Hello," I say in my neutral voice.

"There she is, just in time for dinner," says my mother upon seeing me.

I consider taking my shoes off, but seeing as I don't think I can manage the pain if I do, I leave them on and instead let my wet hood fall down. "Can I help you with something?" I ask the Peacekeepers.

"Head Peacekeeper Thread sent us with a message for you," says the woman.

"They've been waiting for hours," my mother adds.

They've been waiting for my fail to return, hoping I'm electrocuted so they can take my family in for questioning. I need to be strong but the pain in my heel is getting worse and I'm afraid I'll collapse and give myself away.

"Must be an important message," I say.

"May we ask where you've been?" the woman asks.

"Easier to ask where I haven't been," I say with a sound of exasperation. I cross to the kitchen forcing myself to walk despite the excruciating pain. I make it to the table alright. I also notice that Peeta and Haymitch are here as well. Were they here by chance, or invited by the Peacekeepers? Regardless I'm happy to see them.

"So where haven't you been?" says Haymitch in a bored voice.

"Well, I haven't been talking to the Goat Man about getting Prim's goat pregnant, because someone gave me completely inaccurate information as to where he lives," I say to Prim emphatically.

"No, I didn't," says Prim. "I told you exactly."

"You said he lives beside the west entrance to the mine," I say.

"The east entrance," Prim corrects me.

"You distinctly said the west, because then I said, 'Next to the slag heap?' And you said, 'Yeah,'" I say.

"The slag heap next to the east entrance," says Prim patiently.

"No. When did you say that?" I demand.

"Last night," Haymitch chimes in.

"It was definitely the east," adds Peeta. He looks at Haymitch and they laugh. I glare at Peeta and he tries to look contrite. "I'm sorry, but it's what I've been saying. You don't listen when people talk to you."

"Poet people told you he didn't live there today and you didn't listen again," says Haymitch.

"Shut up, Haymitch," I say, clearly indicating he's right.

Haymitch and Peeta crack up and Prim allows herself a smile.

"Fine. Somebody else can arrange to get the stupid goat knocked up," I say, which makes them laugh more. And I think, This is why they've made it so far, Haymitch and Peeta. Nothing throws them.

I look at the Peacekeepers. The mans smiling but the woman is unconvinced. "What's in the bag?" she asks sharply.

I know she's hoping game or wild plants. Something that clearly condemns me. I dump the contents on the table. "See for yourself."

"Oh, good," says my mother, examining the cloth. "We're running low on bandages."

Peeta comes to the table and opens the candy bad. "Ooh, peppermints," he says, popping one in his mouth.

"They're mine." I take a swipe from the bag. He tosses it to Haymitch, who stuffs a fistful of sweets in his mouth before passing the bag to a giggling Prim. "None of you deserves candy!" I say.

"What, because we're right?" Peeta wraps his arm around me. I give a small yelp of pain as my tailbone objects. I try to turn it into a sound of indignation, but I can see in his eyes that he knows I'm hurt. "Okay, Prim said east. I distinctly heard west. And we're all idiots. How's that?"

"Better," I say, and accept the kiss. Then I look at the Peacekeepers as if I'm suddenly remembering they're there. "You have a message for me?"

The message of course is about the fence. Thread wants to make sure I know that it's up and running again. They also recommend that I pass the information along to my cousin just so that he knows as well. I agree to tell him. Their plan for catching me stuck in the meadow is failing and so they leave. As soon as my mother locks the door behind them, I slump against the table.

"What is it?" says Peeta, holding me steadily.

"Oh, I banged up my left foot. The heel. And my tail ones had a bad day, too." He helps me over to one of the rockers and I lower myself onto the padded cushion.

My mother eases off my boots. "What happened?"

"I slipped and fell," I say. Four pairs of eyes look at me with disbelief. "On some ice." But we all know the house must be bugged and it's not safe to talk openly. Not here, not now.

My mother asses my foot and states that there might be a break. Prim's sent to get my pajamas and robe. I eat three bowls of stew and half a loaf of bread while the others dine at the table. Later my mother gives me a cup of chamomile tea with a dose of sleep syrup, and my eyelids begin to droop immediately. She wraps my bad foot, and Peeta volunteers to get me to bed. I start out by leaning on his shoulder, but I'm so wobbly he just scoops me up and carries me upstairs. He tucks me in and says good night but I catch his hand and hold him there. A side effect of the sleep syrup is that it makes people less inhibited, like white liquor, and I know I have to control my tongue. But I don't want him to go. In fact, I want him to climb in with me, to be there when the nightmares hit tonight. For some reason that I can't quite form, I know I'm not allowed to ask that.

"Don't go yet. Not until I fall asleep," I say.

Peeta sits on the sides of the bed, warming my hand in both of his. "Almost thought you'd changed your mind today. When you were late for dinner."

I'm foggy but I can guess what he means. With the fence going on and me showing up late and the Peacekeepers waiting, he thought I'd made a run for it, maybe with Gale.

"No, I'd have told you," I say. I pull his hand up and lean my cheek against the back of it, taking in the faint scent of cinnamon and dill from the breads he must have baked today. I want to tell him about the uprising, but it's not safe to and I can feel myself slipping away, so I must get one more sentence. "Stay with me."

As the tendrils of sleep syrup pull me down, I hear him whisper a word bad, but I don't quite catch it. My mother orders me to a week of bed rest, tucks another quilt around me, and then all there is to do is stare out the window.

Peeta comes by every day to bring me cheese buns and begins to help me work on the family book. It's an old thing, made of parchment and leather. Some herbalist on my mothers side of the family started it ages ago. The book's composed of page after page of ink drawings of plants with descriptions of their medical uses. I didn't because I'm no artist and its do crucial that the pictures are drawn in exact detail. That where Peeta comes sin. Some of the plants he already knows, others we have dried samples of, and others I have to describe. He makes sketches on scrap paper until I'm satisfied they're right, then I let him draw them in the book. After that, I carefully print all I know about the plant.

One afternoon Peeta stops shadowing a blossom and looks up so suddenly that I start, as though I were caught spying on him, which in a strange way maybe I was. But he only says, "You know, I think this is the first time we've ever done anything normal together."

"Yeah," I agree. Our whole relationship has been tainted by the Games. Normal was never a part of it. "Nice for a change."

"It is," he nods and then goes back to shadowing the blossom. I lean forward and rest my head on his shoulder. There's something so calming about his body against mine. And not in a sexual way, but in a I feel safe, guarded, protected...loved, kind of way. I like the feeling.

"Peeta?" I wait for him to look at me. His face is about two inches or less from mine when he does. "Do you think we'll be good mentors?" The question has been plaguing me for weeks.

"No," he says plainly. "We'll be great mentors...however it turns out, we will give our tributes the best advice we can offer. It's not going to be easy, but we can do it. We don't really have a choice anyways, in the long run. So we might as well make the best of it."

I nod. His face is so close to mine I can barely breathe. "Do you ever regret taking those berries from me in the arena?"

He looks surprised by my question, but answers honestly anyways, "No. I've never regretted it. Why? Have you?

"Sometimes I just think it would have been better for everyone if I alone had eaten them."

"Katniss," Peeta says slowly. "I wouldn't have come home without you. So no, I don't regret you giving me those berries. We both wouldn't be here today, if you hadn't. And honestly I'm pretty glad that we're both here today. If you had died in that arena, my life would never be the same again. I might've even turned into Haymitch. You were that one girl, always. The one I cared about but, it seemed like a hopeless case."

"You really remember the dress I wore," I ask.

"I remember everything."

"You know, that might creep a normal person out," I smile at him.

"Good thing we aren't normal," he winks at me, kisses my forehead and says quietly. "You should rest. I can finish this flower, and the next two on our list were in the arena. So I'm good for a couple hours. You should sleep." I nod and lean back. Falling asleep with his warm protective body beside my own. I could get used to this.

Each afternoon he carries me downstairs for a change of scenery and I unnerve everyone by turning on the television. I want to be up and around doing something. Instead I sit around stuffing myself with cheese buns and watching Peeta sketch. Haymitch stops by occasionally to bring news from town, which is always bad.

When I've somewhat recovered my prep team and Cinna, followed of course by the one and only Effie Trinket help me try on my wedding dresses for the photo shoot. It's a little unnerving to be here doing this, but it's not so horrible. I haven't seen Gale since he left to go home and recover, and now there is no way or time to prepare him for all the wedding propaganda.

The day has come, the reading of the card regarding the Quarter Quell. I'm not ready, I don't want to know anything about who we will have to mentor, the kind of kids. This just makes it alarmingly real to me, that I'm here, Peeta's here and there were 22 other tributes who are not, because more or less cheated. We both got out due to a weakness in sentimentality.

"It's not for months," says Prim as we watch the screen.

President Snow takes the stage and every word he says is laced with a hidden meaning, a warning message to those rebelling, but I certainly don't know what exactly he wants me to do now. I feel like there's nothing else I can do...and part of me, isn't sure I really care. He explains what happened the twenty-fifth year, the fiftieth year, the one Haymitch won and then he gets down to it.

"And now we honor our third Quarter Quell," says the President. "On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, two of the tributes, one male and one female tribute is to be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each district. An additional, two tributes will be from the tradition reaping."

One female...I am going back into the arena.

After running away from the house and hiding the thought finally hits me. "Peeta." The only person in the arena I'll be forced to kill is Peeta or Haymitch. Peeta or Haymitch. I'm on my feet. What just went through my head? There's no situation in which I would ever kill Peeta or Haymitch. But one of them will be in the arena with me, and that's a face. They may have even decided between them who it will be. Whoever is picked first, the other will have the option of volunteering to take his place. I already know what will happen. Peeta will ask Haymitch to let him go into the arena with me no matter what. For my sake. To protect me.

I pull myself up and rush to Haymitch's.

"Ah, there she is. All tuckered out. Finally did the math, did you, sweetheart? Worked out you won't be going in alone? And now you're here to ask me ... what?" He says.

I don't answer. Haymitch tells me that Peeta was here immediately begging to go back in with me. He's ashamed for me, and I'm ashamed for myself. How could I not think about the fact that one of them would be going back in a while ago. Why did it take me this long? And more to it! We have to mentor kids that we'll be taking in with us too.

I take the bottle from Haymitch's hands and take a swig of it.

"You could live a hundred lifetime and not deserve him, you know," Haymitch says.

"Yeah, yeah," I say brusquely. "No question, he's the superior one in this trio. So, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know." Haymitch sighs. "Go back in with you maybe, if I can. If my name's drawn at the reaping, it won't matter. He'll just volunteer to take my place."

We sit for a while in silence. "It'd be bad for you in the arena, wouldn't it? Knowing all the others?" I ask.

"Oh, I think we can count on it being unbearable wherever I am." He nods at the bottle. "Can I have that back now?"

"No," I say, wrapping my arms around it. Haymitch pulls another bottle out from under the table and gives the top a twist. But I realize I am not just here for a drink. There's something else I want from Haymitch. "Okay, I figured out what I'm asking," I say. "If it is Peeta and me in the Games, this time we try to keep him alive."

Something flickers across his bloodshot eyes. Pain.

"Like you said, it's going to be bad no matter how you slice it. And whatever Peeta wants, it's his turn to be saved. We owe him that." My voice takes on a pleading tone. "Besides, the Capitol hates me so much, I'm as good as dead now. He still might have a chance. Please, Haymitch. Say you'll help me."

He frown at his bottle, weighing my words. "All right," he says finally.

"Thanks," I say. I should go see Peeta now, but I don't want to. My heads spinning for the drink, and I'm so wiped out, who knows what he could get me to agree to? No, now I have to go home auto face my mother and Prim.

As I stagger up the steps to my house, the front door. When I come to I'm in bed with no recollection of how I got there, but I force myself out of bed and into the shower. When I'm finally clean I pull my robe on and head back to bed. My mother made some broth and gave it to me and I grabbed a second one and headed over to Haymitch's. We sip the broth in silence for a while. I hear someone walking around upstairs and assume it's Hazelle, but a few minutes ,after Peeta comes down and tosses a cardboard box of empty liquor bottles on the table with finality.

"There, it's done," he says. Peeta's dumped all the liquor out and threatened people not to give any more to either of us. He can hardly even look at me. This must be appalling for him. Me being drunk. Well I guess it's a good thing that I don't care about it at this exact moment.

I don't know what I expected from my first meeting with Peeta after the announcement. A few hugs and kisses. A little comfort maybe. Not this. For weeks Peeta does nothing but train us, and make us watch previous victors' Games and nothing else. He won't even touch me. I suppose he would want to distance himself, but the wedding is in two weeks, what's he expecting now? I don't think the Capitol will cancel it, but perhaps I'm wrong.

Then the day of the reaping comes. They will be doing us first and then the unfortunate rest of the children. I can hardly look at them all, knowing that two of them will be coming into the arena with myself and Peeta. The wedding had been cancelled so we're still just technically engaged. My name is called which was no surprise. But then Effie catches Haymitch's name. He barely had time to shoot me an unhappy look before Peeta has volunteered to take his place.

We are immediately marched into the Justice Building and are forced to stand there and wait for the remaining tributes, as we're waiting, however, they proceed to usher us to the train. "You will meet your fellow tributes on the train. You are going to the train now, no excuses. You know how to manage getting in and where to go, so I suggest you go do that." There's no pity in Thread's voice. He doesn't care, but Peeta and I do as we're told.

"Are you ready for this?" I ask Peeta as we take a seat in the lounge area.

"No," he says, sharply.

"Right," is all I can think to say. He doesn't seem to want to talk and I don't blame him. I don't want to talk either.

We sit there for an agonizing, silent, five minutes before Effie, followed by Haymitch and two very scared looking children. The boy must only be 14 years old, and the girl 12 or 13. The thought then hits me, Peeta and I will have to protect these two as well. We can't leave them alone in the arena. No one in 12 would ever forgive us. How does this work now? How do we make this work?

Effie comes to stand in front of us, the boy and girl just behind her. "Katniss, Peeta, I'd like you to meet your fellow tributes," her voice cracks. She's just realized the same thing we did. "This here, is Blake Kent, and the girl is Bete Black." The names don't sound familiar to me, but then many names wouldn't. Peeta however seems deeply affected by it. Whether for the boy or girl, I don't know. All I know is he immediately stands up, nods at them and leaves the car as the train begins to move. Thinking that Peeta had a good idea, I too, stand up, nod and leave the train car. I don't want to get to know these kids. I'm here to protect Peeta. Not someone else.

"Well," says Effie, exasperated.

When dinner comes no one says anything, Haymitch is drinking, Effie is crying, Peeta is stoic, I want to be left alone, and the Blake and Bete look terrified. I can see why, but it's still kind of shocking, that even Effie Trinket is saying nothing. It's very odd. Very unlike her. But as dinner comes to a close she ushers the children to their rooms. But before she does she briefly turns around mentions how I have a gold Mockingjay pin, how she has gold hair, and that she's going to get Peeta and Haymitch something gold as well. They don't care so she leave with a smile.

A little while later we're all gathered around the tv to watch the rest of the reaping, so we can get an idea for who our competition is. I don't like the thought, but it's s fact and I may as well get used to it. I'll be facing them whether I like it or not. When it gets to ours I'm reminded of why I was so worried about this in the first place, Peeta was ready to volunteer. The second Effie read Haymitch's name, Peeta stepped forward. It was no surprise at all. One of the announcers actually gets ready because it seems the odds will never be in our favor, we star-crossed lovers of District 12. Then she pulls herself together to say she bests that "these will be the best Games ever!"

Haymitch and Effie leave and I just sit there watching Peeta rip out the pages of the victors who were not picked.

"Why don't you get some sleep?" he says.

Because I can't handle the nightmares. Not without you, I think. They are sure to be dreadful tonight. But I can hardly ask Peeta to come sleep with me. We've barely touched since the Quell was announced. "Just review my notes awhile. Get a clear picture of what we're up against. But I'll go over it with you in the morning. Go to bed, Katniss," he says.

So I go to bed and sure enough within a few hours I'm woken from a nightmare. I know I was screaming, but no one comes. Not Peeta, not even the Capitol attendant. I pull the robe to try to calm the gooseflesh crawling over my body. Staying in my compartment is impossible, so I decide to go find someone to make me tea or hot chocolate or anything. Maybe Haymitch is still up. Surely he isn't asleep.

I order warm milk, the most calming thing I can think of, from an attendant. Hearing voices from the television room, I go in and find Peeta. Beside him on the couch is the box Effie sent of tapes of the old Hunger Games. I recognize the episode in which Brutus became victor.

Peeta rises and flips off the tape when he sees me. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Not for long," I say. I pull the robe more securely around me as I remember the nightmare.

"Want to talk about it?" he asks. Sometimes that can help, but I just shake my head, feeling weak that people I haven't even fought yet already haunt me.

When Peeta holds out his arms, I walk straight into them. It's the first time since they announced the Quarter Quell that he's offered me any sort of affection. He's been more like a very demanding trainer, always pushing, always insisting Haymitch and I run faster. Eat more know our enemy better. Lover? Forget about that. He abandoned any pretense of even being my friend. I wrap my arms tightly around his neck before he can order me to do push-ups or something. Instead he pulls me in close and buries his face in my hair. Warmth radiates from the spot where his lips just touch my neck, slowly spreading through the rest of me. It feels so good, so impossibly good, that I know I will not be the first to let go. And why should I? He's still my fiancé. That, at least, is one weight off my shoulders.

The arrival of the Capitol attendant with the warm milk is what breaks us apart. He sets a tray with a steaming ceramic jug and two mugs in a table. "I brought an extra cup," he says.

"Thanks," I say.

"And I added a touch of honey to the milk. For sweetness. And just a pinch of spice," he adds. He looks at us like he wants to say more, then gives his head a slight shake and backs out of the room.

"What's with him?" I say.

"I think he feels bad for us," says Peeta.

"Right," I say, pouring the milk.

"I mean it. I don't think the people in the Capitol are going to be all that happy about our going back in," says Peeta. "Or the other victors. They get attached to their champions."

I ask Peeta about what he's watching and he offers to let me pick the next video. I ask about Haymitch's. He's never told us anything about his Games, or how he won, he's just agreed with us that things are never the same once you've come back from the arena. That there are no winners, just survivors. We're just survivors.

"Okay," Peeta agrees. He puts in the tape and I curl up next to him on the couch with my milk, which is really delicious with the honey and spices, and I lose myself in the Fiftieth Hunger Games. Essentially, Haymitch cheated two. We're quite the trio. All of us cheaters.

After Haymitch's Games and post-interviews are over, we stay on the couch wrapped in each other's arms. Eventually with my head on his shoulder and his arms around me, I fall asleep, and I think at some point he does too because when the door to the car opens in the morning we're both startled awake.

"Oh!" gasps Bete. "I'm sorry."

"We're sorry," Blake backs her up.

"Hey look," Peeta smiles. "They're already more friendly than you were our first time on this train with me."

"You were trying to kill me!" I huff.

"You know very well," he leans his forehead against mine, "that I never was trying to kill you...even when you were trying to kill me."

"You had me treed."

He laughs, "the Careers did, I was just there."

"Right," I smile. "Mister Lets-Wait-She'll-Have-to-come-down-eventually."

"Well, that was technically right," he pulls back and shakes his head.

We both turn to look at the other two not in the train car with us.

"Are you mentoring us too?" Bete asks Peeta.

"We were hoping," says Blake slowly. "That it wouldn't be the drunk one."

"Hey now," says Peeta. "We wouldn't be here right now without him, and he's our friend. So be nice. And I have no idea how this is supposed to work. We were never supposed to have to go in another arena, and well, you can see how that's turned out."

"Oh," says Blake. "Okay."

"We'll probably just die in there anyways," says Bete, emotionlessly.

"Why do you say that?" I ask.

"Well," she says hesitantly. "Anyone seeing this wouldn't want to screw that up."

Peeta and I look at each other and know what they mean. His arms are around me. We have every intention of saving the other. No one needs help understanding that. Everyone can already see it, it's transparent. We want the other to survive, at any cost, but now it's not so easy. Now our district has two more faces. All I can think is I hope someone else kills them so we don't have to.


	6. Chapter 6

Now comes the tribute parade. Peeta and I have hardly spoken with Blake and Bete, Haymitch said it would be better not to get attached...not like that would be too difficult for me, I think he said that mostly for Peeta's benefit. It's time to get ready and Portia takes Peeta and Bete, while Cinna has taken Blake on additionally. Our outfits are significantly better this year than they were last year, it's almost as if Cinna knew this was going to happen. My dress is wonderful.

Blake and I have just made it to the chariots when I look to my right and see Finnick Odair walking in our direction. He can't be coming to talk to me, can he? Seems a little counterproductive...unless he wants to intimidate or unhinge me, then in that case his effort would be useless. There's really no point to that, the only person that can unhinge me or truly intimidate me, is Snow, and even then I can stand on my own two feet.

"Hello, Katniss," he says, as if we've known each other for years, when in fact we've never met.

"Hello, Finnick," I say, just as casually, although I'm feeling uncomfortable at his closeness, especially since he's got so much bare skin exposed.

"Want a sugar cube?" he says, offering his hand, which is piled high. "They're supposed to be for the horses, but who cares? They've got years to live, whereas you and I . . . well, if we see something sweet, we better grab it quick."

Finnick is something of a living legend in Panem, youngest ever to win his Games. Haymitch talked about him on the train, he came in just after the other two retreated.

"What's this?" he gestures to Peeta and I cuddling.

"Two people, sitting on a couch," says Peeta.

"That's obvious," says Haymitch. "I meant what are you doing?"

"Watching past Games," I tell him.

"Ahh," he says looking at the box currently empty. "My Games?"

"Yeah," we say guiltily.

"We should have asked," says Peeta.

"No," sighs Haymitch. "It's okay."

"They weren't counting on you using the force field, were they?" I ask.

"No," Haymitch shakes his head, "and I paid dearly for it."

"Is that why you live alone?" I ask cautiously.

"Yes," his shoulders slump. "He killed my family and my girl. Nothing I could do about it either, not without making a clear enemy of Snow, and that just wasn't an option. They were coming for me in that arena, and I did the only thing I could think of in the moment. I didn't enjoy the arena, but I wanted to get back to my family and my girl," he shakes his head. "But winning the Games can be quite costly. That win, or failure, or cheating, will follow you always, and Snow never forgets about it."

"Don't I know it," I say. Snow's made his opinion and threat very clear. Stop the rebellion, but at this point, now that I'm going into another arena, I'm not sure that I care anymore about stopping it. I almost want to encourage it.

"Yes," says Haymitch, "What you did was stupid, too."

"Yeah," replies Peeta. "We kind of already knew that."

"Okay," says Haymitch. "Go get dressed, come back here and I'll tell you about some of your competitors." Peeta and I do as he's said, and when we come back we're all ready to listen to whatever it is that he wants to tell us. He talks about the tributes from the Career districts, there's a brother and sister, Cashmere and Gloss, won their Games back to back. Favorites of the Capitol. District 2, Brutus and Enobaria, he is aptly named given his size, and she's sharpened her teeth so they all look like fangs. District 3, Wiress and Beetee, apparently very brilliant. District 4…

"Finnick Odair, right?" I ask Haymitch, and Peeta looks at me a little shocked I know that.

"Yep," Haymitch nods. "Won his Games at 14. Youngest ever. Extremely humble."

"You're kidding, right?" I say.

"Yes, I'm kidding. He's a peacock, a total preener. But he's the Capitol darling, they love him here. Charming, smart and very skilled in combat, especially in water."

"Any weaknesses?" asks Peeta.

"Yeah, one," he points to the screen. "Mags. She volunteered for Annie. Mags was his mentor and basically raised him, if he's trying to protect her in any way, it exposes him."

"A guy like that," I say, "has to know she won't make it. I bet when it comes down to it, he won't protect her."

"Katniss!" says Peeta.

"Well," says Haymitch, minus the reproach. "I just hope that when she goes, she goes fast. She's actually a very lovely woman."

The rest of the tributes seem interesting enough, but nothing too spectacular in my mind. None of them can shoot a bow and arrow, so I'm pretty set there, unless someone gets to them first and gets rid of them, in that scenario I'd be defenseless. Not how I want to be. So I have to get to the Cornucopia, and they like a good show, everything that everyone is good at will be at that Cornucopia. So speed is key. Get what you need and get out of there.

"Then there's the four of us, District 12," Peeta points out.

"How are the other two?" I ask. "Do they look like they'd put up a good fight?"

"Katniss," says Haymitch. "You at least need to pretend to protect them, if you won't do it sincerely. They are young, they don't know how to defend themselves, and there will be twenty-four skilled killers in that arena. You at the very least should look out for them, and if need be, let someone else kill them."

"That's a terrible thing to say," says Peeta.

"Look," says Haymitch. "You want to save each other, I get it, but you have to at least try to save these kids. You don't and whichever one of you - if either one of you - make it out of that arena and back home...no one will ever forgive you. Trust me," he sighs heavily. "I know."

I nod, try. I can at the very least do that. I can try.

"No thanks," I tell Finnick. "I'd love to borrow your outfit sometime, though."

"You're absolutely terrifying me in that getup. What happened to the pretty little-girl dresses?" he asks. He wets his lips just ever so slightly with his tongue. Probably this drives most people crazy. But for some reason all I can think of is old Cray, salivating over some poor, starving woman.

"I outgrew them," I say.

Finnick takes the collar of my outfit and runs it between his fingers. "It's too bad about this Quell thing. You could have made out like a bandit in the Capitol. Jewels, money, anything you wanted."

"I don't like jewels, and I have more money than I need. What do you spend all yours on, anyway, Finnick?" I say.

"Oh, I haven't dealt in anything as common as money for years," says Finnick.

"Then how do people pay for the pleasure of your company?" I ask.

"With secrets," he says softly. He tips his head so his lips are almost in contact with mien. "What about you, girl on fire? Do you have any secrets worth my time?"

For some stupid reason, I blush, but I force myself to hold my ground. "No, I'm an open book," I whisper back. "Everybody seems to know my secrets before I know them myself."

He smiles. "Unfortunately, I think that's true." His eyes flicker off to the side. "Peeta is coming. Sorry you have to cancel your wedding. I know how devastating that must be for you." He tosses another sugar cube in his mouth and saunters off.

Peeta's beside me, dressed in an outfit identical to mine. "What'd Finnick want?" he asks.

"He offered me a sugar cube and wanted to know all my secrets," I say in a seductive voice.

Peeta laughs, "Ugh. Not really."

"Really," I say.

"Well," says Peeta sweetly, "he'll have to get in line."

"Do you think we'd have ended up like this if only one of us had won?" he asks, glancing around at the other victors. "Just another part of the freak show?"

"Sure. Especially you," I say.

"Oh. And why especially me?" he says with a smile.

"Because you have a weakness for beautiful things and I don't," I say with an air of superiority. "They would lure you into their Capitol ways and you'd be lost entirely."

"Having an eye for beauty isn't the same thing as a weakness," Peeta points out. "Except possibly when it comes to you." The music is beginning and I see the doors opening for the first chariot, hear the roar of the crowd. "Shall we?" He holds out a hand to help me into the chariot. I notice out of the corner of my eye, that Blake does the same for Bete.

I climb up and pull him up after me. "Hold still," I say and straighten his crown. "Have you seen your suit turned on? We're going to be fabulous again."

"Absolutely. But Portia says we're to be very above it all. No waving or anything," he says. "Where are they, anyway?"

"I don't know." I eye the procession of chariots. "Maybe we better go ahead and switch ourselves on." We do, and as we begin to glow, I can see people pointing at us and chattering, and I know that, once again, we'll be the talk of the opening ceremonies. We're almost to the door. I crane my neck around, but neither Portia nor Cinna, who were with us right up to the final second last year, are anywhere in sight. The only thing I see is Blake and Bete looking disappointed, and anxious. Their suits aren't lighting.

"Are they not working?" I ask back at them.

"Cinna said that was your thing," says Bete.

"Ah," I say and turn back to face forward. "Are we supposed to hold hands this year?" I ask.

"I guess they've left it up to us," says Peeta.

I look up into those blue eyes that no amount of dramatic makeup can make truly deadly and remember how, just a year ago, I was prepared to kill him. Convinced he was trying to kill me. Now everything is reversed. I'm determined to keep him alive, knowing the cost will be my own life, but the part of me that is not so brave as I could wish is glad that it's Peeta, not Haymitch, beside me. Our hands find each other without further discussion. Of course we will go into this as one.

The voices of everyone in the crowd rises to a roar as we make our way out. People are chanting my name, but Peeta and I are resolute, unforgiving, and I love it. People are throwing flowers at us, and we do nothing. We won't give them or Snow the satisfaction. They cheered us on last time, though people always seem to forget that Peeta was on fire too, but apparently "Baker's Boy" is better for him. Stand too close to a fire and you'll get burnt. Not all toast is good.

As we curve around past the president, we hold our stance. He meets my eyes, evil and unforgiving. For once we're on the same page. I have failed him in stopping the rebellion, and he has failed me by putting me into another arena. I am unforgiving, he is unforgiving. We are unforgiving. It feels good to be myself at last.

When we've finally made it back Peeta helps me out of the chariot. I notice that Blake does the same thing. "Are they trying to be us?" I hiss at Peeta. "Because it's not very flattering. I don't like it."

"Calm down, Katniss," says Peeta. "They're kids, they don't want to be here any more than we do...in fact, I'm sure they want to be here less than we do. We know what to expect - more or less - we've survived a Games, they are weak, they're young and they only know what they've seen. I can take care of myself, and we both know you can fight enough for the both of us," he winks, "and you have impeccable aim."

"Ha ha," I shake my head. We turn to face Haymitch and the tributes from District 11 coming our way. Seeder is the woman, and Chaff is the man, if I remember correctly. Chaff throws his good arm around me and gives me a big kiss right on the mouth. I jerk back, startled, while he and Haymitch guffaw. I can't tell what Peeta is doing, but I'm sure it startled him too, after all, he's the one I'm usually seen kissing.

That's about all the time we get before we're ushered to the elevators. Cinna and Portia have taken Blake and Bete with them, apparently they need to talk over their interview attire. I get the distinct feeling that the Capitol attendants aren't exactly thrilled with the camaraderie among the victors, who couldn't seem to care less. As I walk toward the elevators, my hand still linked with Peeta's, someone brushes up beside me. It's Johanna Mason, the female tribute from District 7.

"You two look amazing," she says ruefully.

"Thank you," I tell her.

"My stylist, is an idiot," she says. "District 7. Lumber. Trees. I'd love to put my axe in her face. So what do you think? Now that the whole world wants to sleep with you."

"I don't think the-" I start.

"I wasn't talking to you," she snaps.

Peeta? She's talking to Peeta? The whole world wants to sleep with him? I feel a strange surge of possession, of jealousy, of uncomfortable uncomfortableness. I don't like that she's said that, and I don't like the idea that so many people would want to sleep with Peeta. He's great and all, but do people really lust after him like that? And why did she sound so utterly resentful? Well whatever her reasons, I don't like the connotations or implications.

"Unzip?" she looks at Peeta as she turns her back to him.

He seems flustered a second and then simply says, "yeah." I glare at him and drop his hand, but he doesn't seem bothered by it. Maybe it's okay with him, maybe he's doing it to bother me, or maybe there's something in her asking that I just do not understand. There's a lot of things in this world that I do not understand, and this would be one of them.

Johanna is now pulling her outfit off and in seconds she's down to nothing but her shoes. "Much better," she says with a sigh. The elevator reaches level 7 where her District's tributes are located, "Thanks. Let's do it again sometime!" She says stepping out of the elevator, leaving her clothes behind with us.

"Johanna Mason," says Haymitch, "District 7."

That night it seems like no surprise that Peeta came to sleep in my room, everyone has since stopped caring, or at least stopped telling us they care. No one seems to have the inclination to tell us to stop. So as we lay there, Peeta begins stroking my hair.

"Peeta?" I ask.

"Yeah?"

"Are your nightmares more vivid the last few days?" I ask.

"Since the Quell announcement, you mean?" he clarifies.

"Yeah, are they any worse?" I sigh heavily.

"Yeah," he nods. "They're worse."

"So are mine," I say quietly.

"You have been moving around a lot more," he shrugs, "so that makes sense."

"Peeta," I choke, "I don't think I can do this."

"Do what?" he asks.

"Help those kids."

"Yeah," he sighs, "I'm not sure how we can help them. Their survival means our deaths...and you can't die in there Katniss."

"No," I shake my head profusely, "you can't die in there."

"Well," says Peeta, "there's really no point in arguing about it now. We don't even know what the arena will be like. Let's just take it one step at a time."

Just then the door opens and Haymitch steps inside. "Everyone descent?"

"Ha ha," I say flatly.

"Well," he shrugs, "no judgment. We need to talk."

"Okay…" Peeta and I say jointly sitting up in the bed.

"These Games are going to be different," he says.

"So what do we do?" asks Peeta.

"You're gonna need to have some allies."

"Okay, I think-" starts Peeta.

"Uh, uh," Haymitch shakes his head, "it's not you I'm worried about."

"No," I shake my head defiantly. We're not going to have allies, we can't have allies, it's kill or be killed like before, but this time, Peeta will be surviving, and I will have to do everything within my power to make sure that that happens.

"Fine," Haymitch says shaking his head. "But remember, I know these people. And their first goal is going to be to hunt you down - both of you-"

"That just puts us higher on their kill list," I snap.

"Fine, have it your way," shrugs Haymitch. "Now get some sleep." Then he skulks out of the room. Shaking his head and taking a swig of whatever concoction he had in his hand. Granted, I know that he's trying to help us, but at the same time, my only goal is keeping Peeta alive, I don't care what happens to anyone else in that arena as long as Peeta survives.

"Goodnight, Katniss," he tells me softly. "Try and get some sleep."

"Alright," I say. "Goodnight, Peeta."


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning there's a light tapping on the door, "up up up," says Effie Trinket, "we've got another big big big big day today! And you both need to be looking your absolute best!" We say nothing. "I know you heard me, now come on!" We can hear her as she walks away.

When we make it to the dining room, only Haymitch is there to greet us. "You're late."

"Sorry," says Peeta. "We overslept a bit."

"Mhm," says Haymitch unimpressed. "All right, never mind. Today, in training, you've got two jobs. One, stay in love."

"Obviously," I say as Peeta and I take our seats.

"And two, make some friends," says Haymitch.

"No," I say. "I don't trust any of them, I can't stand most of them, and I'd rather operate with just the two of us."

"We're having this argument again?" Haymitch says with a sigh. "It won't be enough. You're going to need more allies this time around."

"Why?" I ask.

"Because you're at a distinct disadvantage. These other tributes have known each other for years. So who do you think they're going to target first?" he says.

"Us. And nothing we do or don't do is going to change that," I say. "So why bother?"

"Because," starts Haymitch with an exasperated sigh. "You can fight. You're popular with the crowd. That could still make you desirable allies. But only if you let the other's know you're willing to team up with them."

"You want us in the Career pack this year?" I ask, unable to his my distaste.

He explains that essentially, yes, he wants us to team up with them. "Anyways, find someone to team up with who might be of some use to you. Remember, you're not in a ring full of trembling children anymore - well, not really, they probably won't last long. These people - the victors - are all experienced killers, no matter what shape they appear to be in." Maybe he's right. I tell Haymitch I'll try, even though I think I'll be pretty bad at the whole thing.

When Effie comes in to take us to training, well the elevator, which she considers "training" though I doubt we need training on how to operate an elevator. Blake and Bete join us in the elevator. It's such a short ride that there's no real time for conversation, but when Peeta takes my hand, I don't pull away. We must appear to be an inseparable team.

"Remember, Katniss," says Peeta as we step out of the elevators, "we need to make some allies."

I sigh.

"Roll your eyes at Haymitch all you want," he shakes his head, "but I can feel when you're shaking your head." He pulls are entwined hands up to point at my face. "So don't go there with me, little miss hot shot with a bow."

I smile at him as we walk the rest of the way to the training center. The other two follow closely behind us. I can see why they're scared, we were here last year doing the same thing, so I can hardly bring myself to ignore them. I turn to face them, pulling Peeta around with me. "If you want, one of you can follow Peeta and the other can follow me. We'll check people out together, and Peeta and I will try to help you as best we can."

They nod. "That's a good idea," says Blake. "Can I follow you, Katniss?"

"Sure," I say.

"But don't get any funny ideas," says Peeta, eyeing Blake's eagerness.

"It's okay," says Bete, "he won't."

Then she smiles at him and it hits me. My eyes dart up to Peeta as his dart to mine. Our relationship may have been fake last year, but for some reason, there seems to be something wholly genuine here...perhaps there is an already existing connection.

"How old are you guys?" I ask.

"Fifteen," they say together.

"Oh," I say.

"Why?" Bete asks.

"I think I guessed wrong," I shrug.

"Thought we were younger?" Blake asks.

"Yes," says Peeta.

"Nope," they laugh together.

"Okay," says Bete, "let's get to work?"

Peeta and I nod and then let go of the other's hand and start to walk around opposite sides of the room, Bete follows him and Blake follows me. "So you won, last year…" says Blake slowly. I nod. "What was that like?" He seems genuine.

"It's not great, Blake," I shake my head, noticing all the girls Prim's age in the room. This year seems to be overflowing with little Rue's and I cannot protect them all. And odds are their fellow district tributes won't care two licks about what happens to them once the gong goes off. "It's not like winning a game at school...to win this Game, people have to die. You may win your life at the end, and you start to take that for granted, and thus we find ourselves in this position now. Going to another arena, fighting twice the amount of people this time," I sigh and notice Peeta and Bete on the other side of the room. "And knowing that _this time_, only one person will win...and you have no plans on it being you."

"Peeta?" Blake asks.

"Yeah," I sigh. Catching my sentiment, my weakness, even though only Blake has seen it. "Let's go over to the rope tying. I'll show you how to make some traps. So you don't starve … if you can help it."

"Thanks," says Blake.

"For what?" I ask.

"For trying," he says.

I don't know how to respond so we just head over to the rope tying station. After about an half hour of showing Blake - unsuccessfully - to tie any knots, I feel someones arms around me from behind, his fingers easily finishing the complicated knot I've been sweating over. Of course it's Finnick, who seems to have spent his childhood doing nothing but wielding tridents and manipulating ropes into fancy knots for nets, I guess. I watch for a minute while he picks up a length of rope.

"Sorry," he laughs, clearly not sorry at all. I just stare at him. "You want to know the best rope to know how to tie in the arena?" He laughs and starts to make a noose. Then he throws it around his neck and tightens it. Extending the end of the rope to me he speaks again, "wanna take me for a walk?"

"No, thank you," I narrow my eyes at him and then walk away. Blake follows me. "You know, Finnick might not be so bad if he wasn't so cocky. You know? Didn't think he was the best gift to humankind."

"Maybe he doesn't think that," says Blake. We both look back to see Finnick still staring in our direction. "Then again, maybe I'm wrong. He sure looks like he thinks he's the best gift to humankind."

"Exactly," I say and then we proceed into an awkward silence.

We go over and meet Wiress and Beetee, there's a force field protecting the Gamemakers this year, suppose that's probably my fault. They explain to me and Blake how it works. There's always a flaw in the system, Beetee said something like that. Here's hoping, because Peeta has to survive these Games, and any extra note of information could be the difference between his life and his death. I want to ask them more but then lunch is announced.

Blake runs over to where Bete is and they take off towards the lunch arena. Peeta and I make eye contact and decide to head back to our rooms to eat, instead of with the rest of the tributes. Once we make it back to the training center, Peeta and I decide it's time to show what we're good at. Of course everyone saw it last year, but they haven't seen anything up close.

"You should go now, Katniss," say Peeta. "A lot of people are just standing around right now, not really doing anything." I nod and head straight over to the archery. I'm hitting everything coming my way. I forget the rest the gym and the victors and how miserable I am and lost myself in the shooting. When I manage to take down five in one round, I realize it's so quiet I can hear each one hit the floor. I turn and see the majority of the victors - and all of the new tributes - have stopped to watch me. Their faces show everything from envy to hatred to admiration.

After training, Peeta and I hang out, waiting for Haymitch and Effie to show up for dinner. "How did Bete do today?" I ask Peeta. He shrugs.

"Fine," he says. "Did you see any of the other younger tributes? They looked terrified, and barely any of the victors were helping the other tributes. I mean, I understand why they would be hesitant, no one wants to get attached, but if those kids die, and no one tries to protect them...well, no one can go home really, not if they let that happen." He sighs. "How did Blake do?"

"He did alright," I shrug. "They're going to be only be 'so good', there's not much we can do to help them. We can try, but once we're in the arena, it won't matter how good our intentions are, it won't matter about anything, because one way or the other, they're probably going to die too."

"Katniss," says Peeta.

"I know, Peeta," I say. "I think they care about each other a great deal too."

"Theirs is genuine," he says.

I turn my head at him. "It wasn't all for the Games."

"I know," says Peeta with a smirk. "But-"

"So at least half the victors want you as an ally," says Haymitch bursting into the room and cutting Peeta off. "I know it can't be your sunny personality."

"They saw her shoot," says Peeta with a smile. "Actually, I saw her shoot, for real, for the first time. I'm about to put in a formal request myself."

"You're that good?" Haymitch asks me. "So good that Brutus wants you?"

I shrug. "But I don't want Brutus. I want Mags."

"Of course you do." Haymitch sighs. "Anyone else?"

"Wiress and Beetee," I say.

Peeta rolls his eyes and his head falls to the back of the couch before looking back up at me and talking. "Johanna calls them Nuts and Volts."

"I'll tell them you're still making up your mind," Haymitch rolls his eyes at me and leaves the room.

"What?" I look over at Peeta.

"Oh, nothing," he laughs.

"What?" I ask a bit more seriously.

"You would want them," he smiles and rubs my arm. "They're weak, you want to help those weak and feeble, but you can't protect them all, Katniss."

"I know," I say.

"Don't get attached," he stands up. "Look at where it's gotten us." He hurries out of the room without another word. He's right though, look at where getting attached has gotten us. I should have just died in that first arena, then Peeta could have gone home, he could have been safe, maybe married someone in tow-okay, I guess I mind that, a little more than I thought. But he's right...getting attached to him in that first arena is what got us here.

After the next two days of training I'm exhausted, and it's worse than I thought. The whole arena is going to be worse. Because, on the whole, I don't hate them. And some I like. And a lot of them are so damaged that my natural instinct would be to protect them. But all of them must die if I'm to save Peeta.

On the final day of training - that ends with our private sessions - we will have fifteen minutes to impress the Gamemakers with our skills, but I don't know what any of us might have to show them. There's a lot of kidding about it at lunch. What we might do. Sing, dance, strip, tell jokes. Mags, who I can understand a little better now, decides she's just going to take a nap. I don't know what I'm going to do. Shoot some arrows, I guess. Haymitch said to surprise them if we could, but I'm fresh out of ideas.

As the girl from 12, I'm scheduled to go last. The dining room gets quieter and quieter as the tributes file out to go perform. It's easier to keep up the irreverent, invincible manner we've all adopted when there are more of us. As people disappear through the door, all I can think is that they have a matter of days to live.

Peeta and I are finally left alone - as Blake and Bete proceed us in the order - he reaches across the table to take my hands. "Decided what to do for the Gamemakers yet?"

I shake my head. "I can't really use them for target practice this year, with the force field up and all. Maybe make some fishhooks. What about you?"

"Not a clue. I keep wishing I could bake a cake or something," he says.

"Do some more camouflage," I suggest.

"If the morphlings have left me anything to work with," he says wryly. "They've been glued to that station since training started."

We sit in silence awhile and then I blurt out the thing that's on both our minds. "How can we kill these people, Peeta?"

"I don't know." He leans his forehead down on our entwined hands.

"I don't want them as allies. Why did Haymitch want us to get to know them?" I say. "It'll make it so much harder than last time. Except for Rue maybe. But I guess I never really could've killed her, anyway. She was just too much like Prim."

Peeta looks up at me, his brow creased in thought. "Her death was the most despicable, wasn't it?"

"None of them were very pretty," I say, thinking of Glimmer's and Cato's ends.

They call Peeta, so I was by myself. Fifteen minutes pass. Then half an hour. It's close to forty minutes before I'm called. When I make it in there it smells like cleaners and there is a mat where one does not usually sit, all the Gamemakers seem to be repressing some kind of emotion, and it's as if I'm struck by lightning...Rue. They don't care about us. Why would they, when I'm a mere tribute and they're Gamemakers? So powerful, so removed, so safe…

Then I know what I'm going to do. I take a dummy, and perfecting the rope that Finnick showed me - the noose - I take some paint, scrawl two words on the dummy and then hoist it in the air. And they know what I mean when it reaches the air.

_Seneca Crane._

Now I have Plutarch Heavensbee's attention. He stares steadily at me as the juice from the peach he crushed in his hand runs through his fingers. Finally he clears his throat and says, "You may go now, Miss Everdeen."

Well if nothing else, at least I know _that_ surprised them. When it's dinnertime and the soup is served, Haymitch gets right to the issue on everyone's mind. "All right, so how did your private sessions go?"

I exchange a look with Peeta. Somehow I'm not that eager to put what I did into words. Blake and Bete quickly say whatever they did, but Peeta and I keep looking at each other, trying to read the others facial expressions, once the other two have finished I say, "You first. It must have been really special. I had to wait for forty minutes to go in."

Peeta seems to be struck with the same reluctance I'm experiencing. "Well, I - I did the camouflage thing, like you suggested, Katniss." He hesitates. "Not exactly camouflage. I mean, I used the dyes."

"To do what?" asks Portia.

I think of how ruffled the Gamemakers were when I entered the gym for my session. The smell of cleaners. The mat pulled over that spot in the center of the gym. Was it to conceal something they were unable to wash away? "You painted something, didn't you? A picture."

"Did you see it?" Peeta asks.

"No. But they'd made a real point of covering it up," I say.

"Well, that would be standard. They can't let one tribute know what another did," says Effie, unconcerned. "What did you paint, Peeta?" She looks a little misty. "Was it a picture of Katniss?"

"Why would he paint a picture of me, Effie?" I ask, somehow annoyed.

"To show he's going to do everything he can do to defend you. That's what everyone in the Capitol's expecting, anyway. Didn't he volunteer to go in with you?" Effie says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Actually, I painted a picture of Rue," Peeta says. "How she looked after Katniss had covered her in flowers."

There's a long paused at the table while everyone absorbs this. "And what exactly were you trying to accomplish?" Haymitch asked in a very measured voice.

"I'm not sure. I just wanted to hold them accountable, if only for a moment," says Peeta. "For killing that little girl."

"This is dreadful." Effie sounds like she's about to cry. "This sort of thinking … it's forbidden, Peeta. Absolutely. You'll only bring down more trouble on yourself and Katniss."

"I have to agree with Effie on this one," says Haymitch. Blake and Bete sit pensive. Portia and Cinna remain silent, but their faces are very serious. Of course, they're right. But even though it worries me, I think what he did was amazing.

"I guess this is a bad time to mention I hung a dummy and painted Seneca Cran's name on it," I say. This has the desired effect. After a moment of disbelief, all the disapproval in the room hits me like a ton of bricks.

"You … hung … Seneca Crane?" says Cinna.

"Yes. I was showing off my new knot-tying skills, and he somehow ended up at the end of the noose," I say.

"Oh, Katniss," says Effie in a hushed voice. "How do you even know about that?"

"It is a secret? President Snow didn't act like it was. In fact, he seemed eager for me to know," I say. Effie leaves the table with her napkin pressed to her face. "Now I've upset Effie. I should have lied and said I shot some arrows."

"We've got her," says Bete standing up. Blake stands and they follow Effie from the room.

"You'd have thought we planned it," says Peeta, giving me just the hint of a smile.

"Didn't you?" asks Portia. Her fingers press her eyelids closed as if she's warding off a very bright light.

"No," I say, looking at Peeta with a new sense of appreciation. "Neither of us even knew what we were going to do before we went in."

"And, Haymitch?" says Peeta. "We decided we don't want any other allies in the arena."

"We'll watch out for those kids," I nod in their direction. "But Peeta's right, we don't want any other allies in the arena."

"Good. Then I won't be responsible for you killing off any of my friends with your stupidity," he says.

"That's just what we were thinking" I tell him.

When we sit down to watch our scoring it's startling when Peeta and I both pull twelve's, making Hunger Games history. No one feels like celebrating, though. Blake pulled a nine and Bete pulled a 6, I still don't know what they did, but at least they didn't pull anything five or below. At least they can, somewhat, take care of themselves. I can't take care of them in that arena, not in the way I have to take care of Peeta … I don't know how this is going to work, but it's not going to be easy. But I promised Peeta I'd try, so I'll do that, I'll try.

When I asked Haymitch why they gave us twelves, he tells us to go to bed, says he can't stand to look at either of us...I think that's saying something. I'd have thought it would have made him proud, but maybe that was thinking a little too reckless, if Haymitch doesn't support it, maybe there were more errors in what we did than either of us were truly aware of.

Peeta walks me down to my room in silence, but before he can say good night, I wrap my arms around him and rest my head against his chest. His hands slide up my back and his cheek leans against my hair. "I'm sorry if I made things worse," I say.

"No worse than I did. Why did you do it, anyway?" he says.

"I don't know. To show them that I'm more than just a piece in their Games," I say.

He laughs a little, no doubt remembering the night before the Games last year. We were n the roof, neither of us able to sleep. Peeta had said something of the sort then, but I hadn't understood what he meant. Now I do.

"Me, too," he tells me. "And I'm not saying that I'm not going to try. To get you home, I mean. But if I'm perfectly honest about it …"

"If you're perfectly honest about it, you think President Snow has probably given them direct orders to make sure we die in that arena anyway," I say.

"It's crossed my mind," says Peeta. "But even if that happens, everyone will know we've gone out fighting, right?"

"Everyone will," I reply. "So what should we do with our last few days?"

"I just want to spend every possible minute of the rest of my life with you," Peeta replies.

"Come on, then," I say, pulling him into my room.

It feels like such a luxury, sleeping with Peeta. I sink down into sleep, enveloped in his warmth, and when I open my eyes again, daylight's streaming through the windows.

"No nightmares," he says.

"No nightmares," I confirm. "You?"

"None. I'd forgotten what a real night's sleep feels like," he says.

We're uninterrupted for hours and surprised that Effie hasn't rushed into the room yet to talk about our big big big big day and getting ready for it when someone brings in a not to us. Apparently we've handled ourselves well enough in public recently enough that we don't need to talk about the interviews, rather we can spend the whole day doing whatever we want. We agree to spend it on the roof, and after fixing a basket of food we head up.

No one bothers us. By late afternoon, I lie with my head on Peeta's lap, making a crown of flowers while he fiddles with my hair, claiming he's practicing his knots. After a while, his hands go still. "What?" I ask.

"I wish I could freeze this moment, right here, right now, and live in it forever," he says.

"Okay," I say. He leans down and gently to kiss my forehead, but my lips meet his. He pulls back a little stunned before bending down and continuing it. I'm unaware of how much time has passed, but I'm no longer resting my head in his lap. The warmth...the warmth with which he brings to everything, overtakes me in that moment. It's Peeta who pulls away when he notices the sunset. We don't go in to join the others for dinner, and no one summons us.

"I'm glad. I'm tired of making everyone around me so miserable," says Peeta. "Everybody crying. Or Haymitch …" He doesn't need to go on.

We stay on the roof until bedtime and then quietly slip down to my room without encountering anyone.

The next morning, we're roused by my prep team. The sight of Peeta and me sleeping together is too much for Octavia, because she bursts into tears right away. "You remember what Cinna told us," Venia says fiercely. Octavia nods and goes out sobbing. Peeta has to return to his room for prep and I'm left alone with Venia and Flavius. Eventually Flavius has to leave too, and as soon as Cinna comes to relieve Venia she is out of the room in an instant.

Cinna shows me that what I'm wearing will be a wedding dress. At Snow's behest, I will be wearing a wedding dress to my interview. "Will I be twirling again?" I ask him, thinking of my dress last year.

"Not until the end," he says.

"All right."

Later we meet up with Haymitch, Effie, Portia, and Peeta in the elevator. Peeta's in an elegant tuxedo and white gloves. The sort of thing grooms wear to get married in, here in the Capitol. Effie is going on and on about how well the other tributes did. Because there are so many of us this year, and because there's victors and first time tributes, Blake and Bete did really well, I guess. I'm glad to hear it. The crowd seems to like them very much according to Effie. The victors are up next. It's our turn to trying and stir up the audience, to try and cancel the Games, I doubt I'll be compelling at all. But I'll try.

Seeing me in the wedding dress it's Johanna Mason that speaks up, "Really? A wedding dress?"

"Snow made me," I say simply.

She walks up to me defiantly, "make him pay for it."

And just like that, my name is called.


End file.
